


Inhale and Hold

by georgia_erhardt



Category: Fall Out Boy, Kinky Boots (2005), Panic! at the Disco, Ryden - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-12-07 20:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11631099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgia_erhardt/pseuds/georgia_erhardt
Summary: Brendon had moved on... or well, he was getting there. With the band, with Sarah. After too many years, Ryan Ross shows up to "Kinky Boots" and everything changes."He grabbed the red boot he made for Lola, the burgundy leather pliable and cool in his hands. Running down the wooden staircase from his makeshift, Broadway-style office, Brendon searched the crowd quickly. Suddenly, his breath hitched, thankfully, on the last note in the song. Sitting on the right aisle seat of the third row, right in the center, was Ryan Ross. The Ryan who Brendon hadn’t seen at all in almost two years, and not properly in six. And he was staring right back at Brendon."





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Everything in the story is as canon as possible, besides the fact that I changed Sarah from his wife to his girlfriend to make things slightly less complicated.
> 
> I update *every Monday* !

Brendon wrung his hands nervously. He’d been starring in Kinky Boots for a couple months now, but he could tell the crowd was especially eager and enthusiastic tonight, which frightened him. The thought of exiting the stage door after the show to a plethora of screaming fans terrified him even more. He loved his fans, but just as his fame has rocketed, so did his anxiety. The stage was illuminated by the bright lights, and the rest of the cast were seamlessly executing the first number, “The Most Beautiful Thing in the World”. As Brendon watched the younger Charlie, or Christopher Convery, sing his part, he couldn’t help but notice that instead of nerves the rest of the cast were humming with energy and excitement.

 

The wings of stage left were brick, identical to stage right. His opening day on Broadway, Brendon was a nervous wreck. Tonight wasn’t as bad. But, for some reason, it was close. Brendon’s eyes traced the worn brick of the walls while breathing heavily, still as anxious as he was before.

 

“Brendon! Get on stage”, his costar, J Ghee, whispered somewhat impatiently.

 

“Oh, right, sorry, sorry” hurried Brendon. He unclamped his hands, took one more deep breath and hopped onto the “trick trolley”, as the crew calls it. The trolley was a wooden staircase with a hollowed out back in which Brendon enters the stage every night. Recently, Zack had decided to line the backside of the trolley with fan art mailed to Brendon’s PO Box or given to them outside the stage door. He claimed it was funny to see everyone’s drawings every night, but Brendon has a suspicion that Zack really did it in an attempt to make Brendon more comfortable. Obviously, he was a confident performer, but singing (and dancing… and acting) in front of a group of people who didn’t necessarily know him, on a Broadway stage, let alone in a Tony-Winning musical, was simply a lot more pressure than putting on a concert for a few thousand screaming, dedicated fans.

 

Exiting the trolley, Brendon launched himself on to stage and immersed himself in the character of Charlie Price, leaving himself and his anxieties behind in the staircase.

 

He moved through the rest of “The Most Beautiful Thing in the World” flawlessly, like usual, and jumped into one of his favorite songs to perform, “Take What You Got”. His heart was racing as his body took over with muscle memory after being in the musical for the past eight or so weeks. Smiling, he sang the last note of the song and was relatively back in his normal “groove”.

 

Before he knew it, the show was moving along quickly and it was time for his first solo. As everyone exited the stage, either by foot or through trolleys, Brendon broke into song and absolutely nailed one of his highest notes, the “ay” in the word “destiny”.

 

            He grabbed the red boot he made for Lola, the burgundy leather pliable and cool in his hands. Running down the wooden staircase from his makeshift, Broadway-style office, Brendon searched the crowd quickly. Suddenly, his breath hitched, thankfully, on the last note in the song. Sitting on the right aisle seat of the third row, right in the center, was Ryan Ross. The Ryan who Brendon hadn’t seen at all in almost two years, and not properly in six. And he was staring right back at Brendon.

  
            Ryan’s brown hair was pushed into some sort of a quiff, like his own had been before “Kinky Boots”. He had a subtle five o’clock shadow and a thin pair of glasses. Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Brendon realized that he had been staring a little too hard for a little too long. His ears were ringing, his head was running wild with thoughts and his heart was beating, probably as fast as the heart rate of a mouse.

 

            Brendon willed his eyes to break from Ryan’s, which they did, after a few more seconds. He walked off the stage, barely processing what he was supposed to do or say next. Thank god he had a few songs before he had to keep performing. Panic filled his eyes as he huffed passed his bodyguard and close friend, Zack, who had confusion clouding his eyes. As he walked further into the stage right wing, his breaths became heavier and more frantic.

 

“Zack…” he breathlessly whispered, just knowing that the taller man had followed close behind him. Turning around, his belief was confirmed. “He’s here.” The initial shock was replaced with rage, and a touch of fear. Spinning back around suddenly, the familiar brick suffocating him in the tiny hallway, Brendon reached behind him and slammed his fist into the wall. The brick was cold, twistedly refreshing, and the physical pain searing through his young veins helped momentarily take his mind off of the brown haired, brown-eyed boy. He-who-shall-not-be-named. “Holy fuck! That really god damn hurt”, Brendon winced, shaking out his hand. As Zack chuckled, he was sent a death glare from Brendon. Less panicked, Brendon restated, “Zack… _Ryan’s_ here.”

 

It was like staring at a blank wall for a second. Brendon snapped his fingers impatiently, face still a bit pale.

 

“Holy shit, Bren, no wonder why you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He joked. “Want me to get rid of him, Brendon? I can talk to the rest of security right now.” Zack was filling with rage himself.

 

After thinking about it, still breathing heavily and once again wringing his hands, Brendon shook his head. “… No, I can’t hide forever. I’m bound to run into exes at some point, I live in god damn New York City, right?” He chuckled nervously. Zack stared at him, the two still crowding the narrow wing. He nodded hesitantly but Brendon knew him well enough to know that he was still furious at Ryan _fucking_ Ross for showing up to _Brendon’s_ show, after practically eight years of nothing. Brendon definitely understood (and shared) Zack’s fury.

 

Lauren, played by Taylor, was finished with her solo, which meant it was once again time for Brendon on stage.

 

As he sang his duet with J about their strenuous relationship with their fathers, Brendon felt a few stray tears fall, which wasn’t completely rare. The song was emotional, in a way because he too connects with Charlie Price in the father department, and has always felt like he wasn’t enough for his family. Not Mormon enough, not quiet enough, not polite enough, not _straight_ enough. The list goes on.

 

Brendon’s eyes couldn’t help but wander to the boy on his left. The boy with brown hair and brown eyes. As their eyes connected for the second time that night, his heart couldn’t help but skip a beat. Again. Almost nobody knows just how bad his family dynamic is at times. But Ryan does, and having Ryan there while Brendon sung about not being his father’s son (the fact that he was playing a character was irrelevant), felt exposing and uncomfortable, at best. Deep down, he had a feeling that the tears on his face weren’t only for his dad.

 

Inhaling sharply, Brendon wiped his face quickly, still in character. Almost missing J’s que, Brendon barely made an effort to move. Had he seen Ryan in public, which he knew was eventually inevitable, he could have walked away. Forgotten. Moved on. But there was nowhere for him to go, even if he could force his feet to move. The most disturbing part for Brendon wasn’t seeing Ryan’s face, different, older but still the same, it was the fact that Ryan had obviously come to the theater to specifically see Brendon. It made him angry and confused. Hurt, even.

 

Brendon couldn’t admit to himself that it also made his heart ache a bit.

 

\---------------------------------------

           

The rest of the show went on, the cast knew him just well enough to know that he wasn’t completely himself that night. Every time someone confronted him, he brushed them off. Being so overwhelmed himself, he couldn’t help but to snap at a few people.

 

He may have been completely imagining it, but he was close enough to Ryan’s seat to see his eyes darken and his body fidget subtlety when Brendon was in his heels, walking around in his underwear and singing about sex. And _maybe_ , just maybe, Brendon turned up the sexual tension on stage on purpose. Just because.

 

Brendon shook his head lightly as he was taking his final bow, partly because the crowd that night had been wild but also because the over-zealous ideas circulating in his mind about _him_ , were just ridiculous.

 

The sound of his red leather stilettos clomping on the wooden floor brought him back to reality. The show was over, _he_ was leaving and he probably wouldn’t see him again. Brendon would just have to keep moving on.

 

“Here ya go, bud.” Zack said gently, handing Brendon a cold water bottle.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbled in a slightly dazed response. The water was cold and refreshing, just what he needed to clear his head a bit. He felt Zack’s hands gently massaging his shoulders as he walked through the wings to the back of the theater to leave. Brendon appreciated Zack’s ability to be there for him without talking about it. Honestly, he wanted to forget about it.

 

He opened the door to his dressing room, and sat down at the dressing table. Moving his hands through his hair, Brendon closed his eyes and let out a heavy exhale. The chime of his phone interrupted his train of thought. Opening his eyes and looking at it, Sarah had texted him. _Hurry home_. Brendon loved Sarah, he did, but the text irritated him. Shoving his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, he stood up.

 

Gathering his bag and his leather jacket, Brendon shut his door behind him and walked toward the stage door. “Uh, hey, Zack?” he asked quietly.

 

“Yeah Bren, what’s up?”

 

Brendon sighed, “I don’t think I can go out there tonight, to meet all the fans, y’know?” his heart started racing again, he always felt so compelled to do everything he could to make his fans happy, and he was thrilled to talk to them. It was the most special feeling in the world to him. “I mean,” Brendon pushed his hands through his hair again, eyes darting from Zack to the floor and up again, “I just, I don’t know man,”

 

“Brendon, stop, it’s okay. I get it.” Zack interrupted him, leaning forward, placing his hand temporarily on the back of Brendon’s neck for the moral support he knew he needed. “Go home, get some sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.” He nodded.

 

Quickly stepping away, he zipped his hoodie before making his way to the back entrance. Keeping his head down, he avoided anyone who came his way, not in the mood to talk.

 

Outside, the weather was crisp and felt nice against his skin. It was August, but it was also near midnight and therefore much cooler than usual.

 

Brendon loved meeting fans, but he also loved walking out the back, getting in his own car and driving himself home.

 

He threw his backpack onto the passenger seat and put his keys in.

 

As he drove down the street, he felt a little guilty about disappointing his fans waiting for him outside, but he also knew that he’d feel a lot guiltier if he had accidentally snapped at one of them or had another panic attack.

 

Brendon’s apartment was in the West Village, which was about a twenty-minute drive from the Al Hirschfeld Theatre.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

            Twenty-three minutes later, he found himself in the garage of his apartment building. As much as he wanted to get out of the car and go up to his girlfriend, Sarah, he couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet. Seeing Ryan, no, knowing Ryan came to see Brendon completely on purpose, brought up a lot of old, suppressed feelings and memories. He just needed a minute.

 

            Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, unlocking it and clicking on Spencer’s name. He sat back in his seat and pulled out the keys, waiting for his best friend to answer.

 

“Bren?” answered Spencer, knowing him well enough to skip the hello part. The sound of his friend’s voice almost made him tear up on the spot, three months without Spencer around had been three months too long.

 

“Hey Spence, do you have a minute to talk?” Brendon could practically see Spencer’s face twist from happy to confused than worried within the span of a few seconds. Brendon was usually a happy go lucky, energetic person, but today he was the opposite.

 

“Of course, Bren. Go ahead” he answered.

 

Brendon sighed heavily and squeezed his eyes shut for which felt like the hundredth time that night. “Ryan came to the show tonight, Spence. Front and center.”

 

“ _Ryan_ , as in Ryan _fucking_ Ross?” Spencer was pissed, just like Brendon predicted.

 

He hummed into the phone, “Yeah, Spencer, Ryan Ross. I just, I don’t know, I thought I moved on. God damn it, Spence, its been six fucking years and I’m dating Sarah now, I thought I was over it. But then he goes and pops up again. At _my show_ , of all places.” He paused, sighing. Spencer waited for him to continue. “I just… when I looked at him, I mean really looked,” Brendon felt the tears he had been holding in for the past few minutes fall down. They were partly from heartache and confusion, but mostly from anger. “Everything just… came back, Spence.” His voice cracked painfully.

 

“Brendon, dude, I’m so sorry. That’s fucked up, y’know? Ryan coming to you like that, with no damn warning and shit… but Bren, it’s okay to be upset… and not only out of anger. Ryan was, like, everything to you, for four years. That’s a long ass time.” Brendon sniffled quietly, listening to Spencer. “Get some sleep, go up to Sarah. Fuck her or something to get him out of your head.” Brendon laughed lightly, knowing that Spencer was mainly kidding about that last point, just trying to cut the tension.

“Thanks, Spence. I’ll talk to you later.” Brendon hung up, he felt slightly better now that he had talked to his best friend.

 

He got out, grabbed his bag and other jacket, and climbed out of the car, locking it. The air was significantly colder than it had been just thirty minutes ago, so Brendon was thankful he had pulled on his hoodie before leaving the theater.

 

He climbed the stairs in his apartment building as quietly as possible, knowing that it was around 12:30am and most people were sleeping. He was all the way on the seventh floor, which was a lot of stairs but he didn’t mind all that much. It was a workout for his quads, at least.

 

He made it all the way to apartment 708 without really thinking about it, having lived there for the last couple of months. He stared at the dark brown door for a little too long before opening it, twisting the knob and walking into a dark apartment, which meant Sarah went to bed and was consequently mad at her boyfriend for not “hurrying home”.

 

Groaning, Brendon dropped his bag next to the door and hung his hoodie on the closest chair. He lightened his breathing and made his way to their first floor bedroom. He opened the door as slowly as he could, really not in the mood to wake Sarah. That would lead to one of two things, sex or a lecture. Both sounding equally unappealing at the moment. Once in the room, Brendon slid off his shirt, pants and shoes. He climbed into bed in the boxers he’d been wearing all day. He just didn’t have the mental energy to change. Really to do anything other than curl up on the side of his bed, leaving Sarah on the other, and trying his damn best to fall asleep and erase the past day from his mind completely.

 


	2. Chapter Two

Brendon pulled his phone out from underneath his pillow and checked the clock again. 2:48am. He had been restlessly trying to fall asleep for the past two and a half hours. With absolutely no luck, of course. Internally groaning he slammed his head back down onto the pillow. He waited a few minutes before coming to terms with the fact that sleep just wasn’t on his agenda for the night.

 

            Soundlessly slipping out of the bed where Sarah was still sleeping, he made his way to the closet and pulled on a classic pair of black, ripped skinny jeans along with a black “Kinky Boots Crew” t-shirt.

 

            As soon as he added some hair gel and ran cool water over his face, he slipped out the front door of the apartment. Jogging down the seven flights of stairs and out the door. Not only was it even cooler, it smelled like there was rain coming. Brendon loved the rain. He loved the sound, the feel and the memories that came along with it.

 

            He walked around aimlessly for a while, just enjoying a calmer version of his temporary home. Honestly, to Brendon, it didn’t feel like a home, it felt like a house. Which was fine. He was used to that. He listened to the sharp yet muffled sound of his doc martens on the pavement and the cabs honking in the distance. As much as Brendon loved people (in many capacities: fans, friends, interviewers, everyone really), he also enjoyed being alone.

 

            As he walked, his mind quieted some and he felt a lot calmer than he had before. Brendon wasn’t thinking the most clearly while he rushed silently out of the apartment and somehow forgot to grab a jacket. Since he was a bit cold, he decided to find the nearest club and go into it. Luckily, there was one he knew about pretty close by.

 

            Before he knew it, the neon sign came into view and he stepped into the building. Immediately, the smell of rain was replaced by that of alcohol with a touch of sweat. The music was loud. Hopefully, with the help of a drink it would be loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

 

            Brendon scanned the club to see if he saw anyone he knew, which would make the night a bit more interesting. Grumbling a bit, he only saw heads of hair and short dresses. He made his way to the bar, head finally focused on something other than his ex-boyfriend.

 

            “Scotch, please.” Brendon mumbled as he sat on the stool and folded his arms onto the bar. The bartender nodded, passing it over a minute or so later.

 

            “You okay, man?” he asked, somewhat skeptical of Brendon’s behavior.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, just… an ex.” He replied miserably, with a dry chuckle. The bar tender nodded, clearly not genuinely interested in whatever the fuck was going on with Brendon.

 

            He downed his scotch, feeling the burn in his throat, but not enough to care. Checking his phone, he realized that it was already past four am. “Shit, I must have been walking for a long time.” He mumbled to nobody except himself. Recognizing how pathetic he must look to everyone else in the room, he decided to go for it. To get hammered. I mean, it was four am and he was alone. What else was he supposed to do?

“Uh, can I get some shots, man? Any top shelf liquor.” The man nodded. He looked tired; the club closed at six and it was probably near the end of his shift.

 

            “God damn, Brendon Boyd Urie!” Brendon heard from somewhere behind him. 

 

“Pete fucking Wentz!” He laughed, turning around and shifting his body to hug the shorter man. “Long time no see, dude! How you been?” He asked, sincerely happier now that he had run into Pete.

 

“I’ve been pretty good, man! Hey Patrick’s here too, he’s just in the bathroom… we were just about to leave, but I’m really glad we ran into ya, Bren.” Pete’s sincere yet unaware smile was relaxing. Brendon grabbed the shots that had been delivered prior to Pete’s arrival. Handing one over, they clinked their glasses and threw the alcohol back.

 

            “How’s Sarah been?” Pete asked.

 

“Oh she’s been okay. Honestly haven’t seen her that much.” Brendon grabbed another shot. “Um, how about Meagan? How’re the kids?” Brendon blatantly was steering the conversation away from Sarah. Not gonna lie, he zoned out just a bit as Pete was talking about his kids, just nodding occasionally, still holding the shot glass in his hand.

 

            Luckily, Pete was interrupted by Patrick’s bellowing voice. “Pete, I’ve been looking for you! Guess who I found taking a piss!” Patrick, who was clearly pretty wasted, practically yelled. Both Pete and Brendon turned around to laugh at the man and to see whom he was currently bringing to the bar.

 

            Brendon’s breath didn’t just hitch, it completely stopped. He threw back the shot he’d been holding for a while, needing now more than ever to get himself plastered. Standing beside Patrick was the same boy he’d been avoiding thinking about for the past five hours (which, by the way, felt like an eternity). Ryan was smiling, but when his eyes filled with panic and a little fear once he noticed Brendon.

 

            He really couldn’t catch a break, could he? The universe was either mocking him or telling him something he didn’t really want to hear right now. Not _now_. Not after he had been trying to move on for six long years. Pete threw a glance in his direction and Brendon just smiled. Forced, of course. Pete and Patrick knew that there was something between Ryan and himself, and knew that for some reason it was now over. However, they had no idea about the seriousness of their affair. Honestly, they might not even know that what happened between the two boys was _romantic_ … and sexual.

           

            Patrick was too drunk to notice and Pete bought Brendon’s bullshit, which meant that all he could do was try to get along with Ryan Ross for the night. Patrick sat down at the end of the bar next to Pete. Brendon inwardly screamed at his two friends as he realized that meant the only place for Ryan to sit was next to him.

 

            Drinking his third shot, he handed one to Patrick and slid one over to Ryan without so much as glancing in his direction.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

            It was now about 5:30 in the morning. The rain Brendon felt earlier was now pouring down outside the club, making it hard for him to see past the door. Brendon had excused himself to go to the bathroom, and when he came back the only person he knew sitting at the bar was goddamn, fucking Ryan. Of course. Brendon was almost too drunk to care.

 

            Making his way over to the bar, or stumbling over, Brendon said the only real thing he’d said to the other man all night. “’Ey, where’re Pete n Pat?” It came out pretty slurred, but sounded a lot clearer in Brendon’s head. Ryan looked at him; less drunk and frankly a little surprised Brendon was talking to him. “Um, they headed out, it’s getting pretty late… or early, I guess.” He fumbled in response. Brendon merely tried to suppress a smile, but it didn’t work. Ryan’s awkwardness had always been the punch line of so many of their jokes, and he was just reminded why. Brendon nodded and waved a little, gaining as much composure as he could manage, getting ready to leave himself.

 

            “Hey, Brendon, I don’t… I don’t think you should be going home alone in this weather; you’re so drunk you probably don’t even know what I’m saying…” Ryan hesitantly said. Brendon confirmed his suspicion by simply laughing, which turned into a coughing fit, as he choked on his third glass of Scotch (which not so elegantly complemented all the shots he had downed throughout the two hours they’d been at the club).

 

            Groaning pretty loudly, Ryan stood up. “S’cuse me,” he said to the bartender. “Could you help us out for a second? I need to get him to the cab.” Ryan tried his best to sober completely and give the man behind the counter his most serious death glare. Apparently it worked because he started leading Brendon to the door as Ryan hailed the cab.

 

            Somehow, the stranger managed to walk a completely wasted Brendon outside and throw them both into a cab, Ryan already in and directing the driver to take them to Ryan’s little hotel, the Renwick, in Murray Hill. Ryan had rented a room there for an indefinite amount of time. You know… just because.

 

While they were in the cab, they were both completely silent and looking out their windows. Maybe Brendon had sobered up a bit, or maybe he was just nauseous.

 

Ryan felt his eyes closing, finally, when they pulled up in front of the hotel. He handed the driver the money and tried his best to slide out, pulling the younger boy with him, without making a scene.

 

The two boys got many weird glances on their way upstairs. Mainly because there was a buzzed boy practically guiding a substantially more drunk man to the elevator. Hands-free of course. It was probable that some also recognized Brendon as “that guy with the song about shutting the door” or the dead bachelor guy.

 

Eventually, Ryan was opening the door to his room.”Fucking hell.” Ryan complained, tired and drenched from the storm outside (which was worsening severely). He had forgotten that he was staying in a hotel room and therefore only had one bed. He had gotten the biggest room in the whole hotel, it was a suite with a living room and a full kitchen but, because it was such a small hotel, it only had one bedroom. Granted, it was king size, but he knew that he would have to take the couch for the rest of the night…er, morning.

 

He shut the black door behind them and hobbled over to the bed to basically throw Brendon onto it. He lightly pushed Brendon’s laughing body out of the door way and towards the bed. His eyes grazed over Brendon’s body. He had the same dark brown hair, the same slim shoulders and long legs. The only thing different about the man he used to call his best friend, and more… much, much more, was that he looked taller and more… worn.

 

Snapping out of his trance when Brendon started hysterically laughing, Ryan pulled off his doc martens and placed them by the door. Brendon wasn’t laughing at Ryan. He was laughing at the universe, since he was too drunk to tell it to fuck off and not screw with his life.

 

Sighing, Ryan turned towards his turquoise couch outside of Brendon’s room. He stripped off his shirt and his shoes, leaving himself in his jeans from the previous night, since Brendon waking up to Ryan in his underwear didn’t seem like the most appropriate thing.

Almost as soon as he sat down and closed his eyes, he heard Brendon dart across the floor of the bedroom, somehow making his way to the bathroom.

 

As Ryan settled into the couch for the “night”, he heard a loud thump. Getting up immediately, Ryan cursed at the world for the hideous situation he was currently in.

 

Rushing into the bathroom, he saw Brendon on the floor with one of his legs in his jeans while the other was out. Ryan came to the conclusion Brendon had tripped himself, which was a lot better than passing out or choking on your own vomit (gross, but it could happen).

 

“Brendon… come on, dude, get up,” Ryan spit out, irritated. Brendon did move, but just towards the toilet as he started to gag.

 

Brendon’s head was already pounding, feeling physically disgusting but not specifically nauseous.

 

“If you have to barf, just do it.” Ryan said, softer but still with exasperation.

 

After a few minutes of Ryan sitting on the edge of the tub, waiting for the other boy to get sick, it was clear that that wasn’t happening, at least not now.

 

“Okay, uh, it’s time to get you back to the bed.” As he expected, Brendon only started giggling, with no real response.

 

Ryan shifted awkwardly before forcing his arm around Brendon’s body and hoisting him up. On contact, both Ryan and Brendon felt a bit more sober.

 

“No,” Brendon shook his head, still slurring his words some, said “pu’ me down.”

Ryan stared at him before scoffing. “I’m trying to _help_ you Brendon, not hurt you.” Ryan whispered, just loud enough for Brendon to hear him. “Is too late for that”, Brendon mumbled back, surprisingly coherent. Ryan’s heart hurt. So did Brendon’s.

 

He practically carried Brendon to the bed before flopping him down and pulled the jeans over the rest of his left foot.

 

“Don’t hate me tomorrow, Urie.” 


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I post every Monday (sometimes in between, as well) -- but I decided to update Sunday night, since I'm very busy tomorrow.
> 
> I hope you guys like this chapter, its slightly longer. If you do, please, please comment! Kudos would be nice too. 
> 
> I'm open to critique and stuff, but not plot suggestions.
> 
> I'm also putting together a playlist of songs that inspire me while writing this story, so if you think of any you can also leave those. :-)

             Ryan woke up before Brendon did. Checking his phone, he saw it was 11:19 in the morning, which meant he had only gotten around four and a half hours of sleep. Understandably so. He was sleeping on an uncomfortable coach with his ex boyfriend and band mate in the other room.

 

            He stayed on the coach for a few more minutes, looking out the window at the storm (which now looked like a full on hurricane). Blinking a few times and grabbing his glasses, he stood up and walked towards where Brendon was sleeping. Just to make sure he’s still breathing and stuff, obviously.

 

            Peering in quietly, Ryan saw Brendon sprawled out on the bed, still sound asleep with his mouth hanging open and snoring lightly. Ryan stood there, frozen, unsure of the emotions he was feeling. It was a mix of hurt, regret, sorrow and heart ache. A sudden wave of everything he had felt in the past years.

 

It became too much for Ryan to handle, so, he walked out into the kitchen of his suite, pouring a glass of water and roaming through one of his bags to pull out two Advils, which he sat next to the water.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

            Brendon woke up to blinding lights and a splitting headache. It took him a bit to adjust to the light and pain, but when he did, he opened his eyes and realized that he wasn’t in his house. Suddenly, he remembered that he had gone to a bar last night after the show, but that was all he could recall at the moment.

 

            Sitting up slowly, Brendon looked around. Clearly, he was in someone’s hotel room. His stomach dropped, hoping with everything in him he had not just slept with a random stranger. For some reason, he was more concerned with what his friend’s would think of him than whether or not he cheated on his girlfriend.

 

            “Fuck, fuck, fuck” Brendon muttered, quickly sobering completely and standing up just fast enough to feel slightly dizzy.

 

            Ryan heard him in the other room, and honestly, part of him was scared to confront Brendon. Shifting on a kitchen stool awkwardly, he whipped out his phone and started scrolling.

 

            As Brendon made his way to the kitchen of the suite, he suddenly saw the same brown hair that he’d seen more of in the last twelve hours than he had in the past eight years. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Brendon practically screeched. Ryan froze.

 

            Running his hands through his hair, as a nervous habit, Brendon asked “Did we… did we _fuck_?”

           

            Ryan almost wanted to say “Yes” simply to see how Brendon would react.

 

            “You asshole! No!” Ryan replied, with anger evident in his voice. “ _You_ were piss drunk and couldn’t even tell me your address, and its basically fucking monsooning. You couldn’t get home.”

 

            The air in Brendon’s lungs felt like it was being pulled out of his chest. Maybe this was the world’s revenge for Brendon leaving Sarah at home while getting himself smashed. To Brendon, that seemed like the only logical explanation for... whatever _this_ was.

 

            He pivoted quickly, storming into his room and pulling back on his jeans from the night before. Still mentally disheveled and physically hung over, he fumbled with his phone, quickly texting Sarah. _Ran into Pete and Patrick last night after the show, b home soon, xx_.

 

            Slowing his breathing, Brendon walked calmly into the kitchen, where Ryan was rummaging around. “Uh, I’ll just be heading out then”. It came out a lot more strained than it sounded in Brendon’s head.

 

Ryan nodded, not looking up.

 

Standing for second, Brendon made his way to the door. Walking out on Ryan in a hotel room brought back a strange sense of déjà vu.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

            Brendon stood on the inside of the glass door of the small hotel. Peering out, he could barely see more than five feet in front of him; the rain was aggressive and blinding. It somewhat calmed the anger inside Brendon.

 

            The uber app on his phone showed no cars anywhere nearby, and there was not a taxi in sight. What luck.

 

            “Hey, uh, Joshua” Brendon started, looking at the middle aged man behind the front desk, “Do ya know of any cars or something outside?”

 

            The man had a dumbfounded look in his eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, Sir, there’s a hurricane outside… subways flooded too.”

 

            “Okay, um, can I get a room then?” he asked becoming impatient at his situation and mentally cursing at himself. Joshua, or so his nametag read, nodded silently.

 

            “Sorry, no rooms. We’re a small hotel, we book out pretty fast…” Brendon was almost seething, and slightly red in the face. How could he _possibly_ be in a situation this… unrealistic and pathetic? This has got to be some twisted, fucked up joke.

 

He nodded, and he knew that he probably appeared like a lunatic with irrational anger issues. Interrogating the hotel employee, appearing to be in the middle of a mood swing. It wasn’t like that though. It was as if Brendon, ignited by everything that had happened within the past forty-eight hours, was a fuse on a bomb that had ended.

 

His outburst was short lived, and replaced with a sense of dread and despair a few seconds later.

 

Brendon went over the options in his head. One, he could get completely hammered at the hotel bar for the second day in a row. Didn’t seem like a _fantastic_ choice. Two, sit in the hotel lobby awkwardly, basking in all that was going wrong. Also, not great. Three, go back to Ryan’s room. Even worse.

 

Brendon compromised, heading to the dark and ominous hotel bar/restaurant. He sat at a table in the back corner, away from the alcohol and the few people who were hanging around. He felt his headache pounding, like his brain was physically trying to run away. He’d let it, if he could.

 

Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his phone, noticing that he had absolutely no service. The power lines were down. Fan-fucking-tastic.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

By now, it was almost two in the afternoon, all Brendon had been doing was sitting at his table, with his eyes closed, dozing off occasionally.

 

Disturbingly, there was a group of people forming, looking at Brendon distinctly; giving away the fact that they knew he was. Meeting with and talking to fans was literally the _last_ thing that he wanted to do at the moment. It was even further down the list than going back to Ryan’s hotel room. So, it was decided then.

He stood up, and shuffled past the cluster of hotel guests huddled together by the bar. Giving them a slight wave, he made his way to the desk he was at a mere three hours before.

 

“Hi again, Joshua, could you tell me what room George Ross is staying in? I, uh, came down a few hours ago with out actually checking. And, uh, I was a tad intoxicated last night, so.” He tried to sound the most sober he could and flashed his usual, charismatic smile. Josh wasn’t fooled.

 

“Against policy.”

 

“Seriously? Look I know you were the one working the nightshift last night, I know I remember your bush of blue hair,” _which by the way, looks shit on you_ , “and I know you saw me walk in with him. So just give me the god damn room number.”

 

The staring contest lasted a solid ninety seconds.

 

“413.”

 

Brendon nodded curtly and climbed the back stairs to the fourth floor.

 

The hurricane had gotten worse in the few hours Brendon had been sitting downstairs, as he climbed, he could hear the winds howling, almost yelling at him.

 

His footsteps clamored down the hall, seemingly mocking him as he made his way to Ryan’s room. His hand knocking on the door replaced the echoing of his shoes.

 

“Hel- … What’re you doing here?” Ryan was taken by surprise, but remained calm. He sounded like he was talking to someone he had never met before; Brendon didn’t acknowledge the fact that it kinda hurt.

 

“No cars. No rooms either. Fans were gathering so…” he gestured between them. Ryan bowed his head a bit, opening the door further, inviting Brendon in.

 

Ryan’s only response was, “I’ll take the living room, you can have the bedroom, I guess.”

 

Well, this was officially one of the most awkward situations either of the boys had ever been in.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

By now, it was almost four o’clock. Brendon had spent his entire day avoiding fans downstairs and sleeping off his hangover in Ryan’s bed. That was genuinely something he would never find himself doing again. They weren’t friends, and Brendon most likely wasn’t going to see Ryan again (for real this time), but it was weird nonetheless.

 

He couldn’t hear Ryan in the other room, so it was probably a good time to venture out in search of food.

 

The kitchen area was pretty nice. A clean, modern oven with a fridge by it, there was even a cupboard with a couple bowls. Brendon wasn’t sure if the hotel supplied them or if Ryan had bought them when he moved in. Either way, the whole suite was impressive. How the hell could Ryan even afford this? Come to think of it, Brendon wasn’t sure what Ryan had been doing with his career, and life, since he left the band.

 

Opening the fridge, the cool metal felt nice against his palm.

 

Beer, obviously, some ritz crackers, why the _hell_ were those in the fridge, and cheese wiz. God damn, well there was proof that people really _don’t_ change.

 

Brendon grabbed the crackers, his stomach was rumbling.

 

“Holy _fuck_ , Ryan, you scared the living shit out of me!” Brendon hadn’t seen or heard Ryan when he walked in, but there he was. Doing a fucking crossword puzzle, like the holier-than-thou poet he always had been.

 

As Brendon picked up his crackers, he had dropped them when Ryan appeared out of nowhere, he could hear Ryan quietly laughing.

 

He sauntered confidently to the living area, sat down on the sleek, black opposite Ryan. “Asshat.” He said with the straightest face he could.

 

Ryan smiled. “Bitch.” He spat back. His smile quickly faded, like he didn’t want to give any part of himself away. Brendon forced himself to hate Ryan, but he still thought his smile was beautiful.

 

“Uh, here, water and pain meds. Can’t even imagine how hung over you are.” He pushed them across the glass table that separated the boys.

 

“Thanks.” Brendon muttered.

 

Ryan was staring at the _New York Times_ in his hand for a good five minutes before Brendon couldn’t hold back his rude, sarcastic comment. “For a self proclaimed poet, you’re not so good with words, eh?” He couldn’t keep the smirk off his face.

 

“Okay. Do you know what the hell a… ‘Horned mountain dweller’ is?” Ryan snapped, throwing the newspaper at Brendon.

 

Brendon filled out the crossword space, eight down, and threw it back to him.

 _I B E X_.

 

“The fuck is an _Ibex_?” Ryan spat.

 

Brendon’s smirk only got bigger, which in hand caused Ryan’s glare to become harsher.

 

“A horned goat. With a beard… I swear.” He almost laughed, Ryan looked _almost_ cute (in a puppy dog way, definitely _not_ in a once-boyfriend-who-I-may-not-be-fully-over-yet way), but he restrained himself well.

 

“How on earth do you know that?” Ryan was evidently still ticked off.

 

“Spent a good amount of time in Asia during the DOAB tour.” The shaggy-haired boy nodded from across the coffee table. Brendon went back to quietly, or as quietly as possible, munching on his crackers. After a few minutes, he migrated to the couch Ryan was on. Thankfully, it was extra long, which avoided any awkwardness. Understandably, he moved because Ryan’s couch had better pillows.

 

And suddenly, there they were. Brendon and Ryan. Coexisting. Not friends, but not enemies either, for the time being, at least. They were basking in the familiar comfort that came with being near someone who knew you so well, inside and out. There wasn’t anyone in the world that knew Brendon better than Ryan did, vice versa. There was no arguing, no asking questions (like why Brendon had moved to sit a bit closer to Ryan, was it really because of the _pillows_? Why did Ryan even show up to Brendon’s show in the first place?).

 

\---------------------------------------

 

            Ryan woke to the sound of a phone, which he soon realized was Brendon’s. Brendon had fallen asleep too, and was curled into the pillows on the other end of the couch. The whole time he had been with Ryan, even at the bar, wasted as all get out, he was filled with tension. Now, he was peaceful. Inhaling. Holding. Exhaling. The phone was still buzzing, but his eyelids only fluttered, didn’t open fully. The cracker’s he had been eating were spilled all over his body, but he still looked beautiful.

 

            Brendon stirred, and opened his eyes. He found the situation a bit awkward. He woke up to Ryan looking at him in a way he couldn’t quite decipher, with his own body buried in the man’s couch cushions. Rubbing his face quickly, he saw Sarah was calling. He wasn’t sure if he was glad that the power lines had been fixed or not.

 

            “Hey Sarah… yeah, yeah I’m okay… I got stuck with a friend of Pete and Pat for the night… I’m leaving now… Love you too.”

 

            Ryan was back to glaring, offended at the dismissal of being referred to as “a friend of Pete and Pat”.

            “I guess this is goodbye, then. Um, I’ll see ya around, maybe.” Brendon was back to his defensive, awkward-and-uncomfortable-around-Ryan self.

 

            And suddenly, there they were. Back to the roles they fit into best, the roles that made sense with the complicated and ugly past they shared. The roles they would keep. It was a constant trade of aggressor and aggressee.

 

            Brendon got up, gathered his things, and was out the door before Ryan had a chance to blink.

 

            Ryan wasn’t mad at Brendon, he really wasn’t. He was mad at himself. For coming back to New York to see _him_ , for leaving him in the first place, for hurting him, but most of all, for still feeling something for him and for not being able to do anything about that.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its 8:49pm, which means I did upload on Monday! #Success
> 
> Anyway, it feels like I haven't uploaded in forever. The chapter is short and pretty much a filler, so there isn't that much Ryden... but trust me, there will be. (Keep your eyes out for the next chapter!) The chapters will also get much longer. Additionally, I promise to upload chapter five sometime BEFORE next Monday (when chapter six will be posted.)
> 
> Also, it would be so fantastic if you could comment or leave kudos on this story and possibly share it with our fellow Ryden shippers. :-)

 

             Brendon had finally made his way home, after lingering around in the lobby longer than he should have.

 

            “Hey Sar, sorry I’m late…” he mumbled.

 

            “It’s okay, love.” Sarah smiled, but with tension in her voice. She was pretty. Big eyes, brown hair, pajamas still on. Sarah was the first woman Brendon had slept with after breaking up with Ryan. She liked him, and he liked her enough. So he settled.

 

            Brendon felt guilty for thinking of her as a permanent rebound, even though that’s what she was, so he gave her a bone-crushing hug. Right there, in the middle of their seventh floor kitchen.

 

            “I love you.” She exhaled gratefully, and somewhat longingly as well. To Sarah, Brendon was there, but not always _there_. In a way, she had settled, too.

 

            “You too.” Was always Brendon’s response. The word love was just so… intimate. Over the years, he could count the times he had told Sarah _I love you_ on one hand.

 

            “Hey, let me make it up to you. Dinner this week?” He felt her nod against his chest and he kissed her head.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

            Three days later, it was about seven pm. Brendon had made eight o’clock reservations at the Gramercy Tavern, a fifteen minute subway ride from their humble abode. Sarah was still getting ready, but Brendon had finished over half an hour ago. He went with a simple black dress shirt with black skinny jeans.

            Finally, Sarah emerged from their bedroom. She was in a strapless blue, satin skater dress, almost but not quite knee length, with a cut out triangle above her ribcage. Her hair was swept to one side and her makeup was minimal.

 

            Brendon’s breath was caught in his throat. Not because she looked beautiful, but because he had felt increasingly suffocated by Sarah’s love. She wasn’t overbearing, she was perfect, but maybe not for him. He had known that for a long time, but was just now confronting it.

 

            “You look stunning, Sarah.” He put on his best charismatic smile. Her smile in return told Brendon that she didn’t suspect a thing.

 

            They linked arms and headed out of the complex.

 

            “Babe, can we take a cab this time? I don’t want to get my dress dirty.” Sarah pleaded as he head for the nearest subway station. Nodding, Brendon hailed a cab.

 

            They shuffled in, Sarah squeezing so close to Brendon that he could feel the seat belt digging into his hip. He wasn’t sure why she did this, given that there was more than another seat’s worth of room. “Gramercy Tavern, sir.”

 

            The driver nodded. “Ah! You that bachelor boy, eh? Saw you on TV New Years Eve!” Brendon did his best to smile and nod. He didn’t want to be purposefully mean to any sort of fan; he simply didn’t feel his best at the moment. Physically, he had a headache. Mentally, he was confused as fuck about whether or not he loved Sarah as much as he should.

 

Thankfully, Sarah had started a conversation about Brendon and his many accomplishments, allowing him to fall into a daze for the remained of the ten-minute car ride.

           

            “B, come on.” He heard, snapping out of the trance he had been in. Checking the cost of their ride, he handed the man fifteen dollars, which included a generous tip.

 

            The two of them walked into the historic and quaint restaurant arm in arm. “Reservation for two under Urie.” The restaurant was discreet enough that there was no need to make the reservation under a fake name.

 

            Brendon led Sarah to the back table and pulled out her chair. “For my love,” he said in a jokingly romantic way, bowing slightly. Sarah blushed.

 

            He sat down across from her. “I’ve missed you, Brendon.”

 

            He grabbed her hand, “I’ve missed you too, babe. Tonight, it’s just about us, nothing else. No work, no distractions. You and me.” He took Sarah’s hand from across the table and kissed it. It was small and soft, and it didn’t really fit in his.

            The waiter had come, and Brendon ordered the filet mignon while Sarah ordered the wood smoked salmon. Currently, Sarah was discussing the paint colors for their apartment, which they were thinking of redecorating.

           

            “I’ve been thinking a lot, and I like the navy blue paint in the kitchen, but I would like some more color in the bedroom, y’know? White’s pretty boring but I think a nice baby blue would be suitable. What do you think?”

 

            “Yeah Sar, I think blue would be nice.” Brendon said, trying not to sound as mundane as he felt. Unfortunately, the look on his girlfriend’s face told him he hadn’t succeeded.

 

            “Babe, You know much better than I do, I say any color you want is what we’ll do.” She seemed satisfied by this answer and started to eat her salmon again. Brendon was surprised it wasn’t cold.

 

            Brendon and Sarah had been together for years. They were comfortable with each other. Normally, it would seem like the exact kind of relationship someone would be longing for. They don’t fight; they have the right amount of sex… they just work. Brendon knew this, he did. But, there was still a part of him that questioned, every day, whether or not this was the kind of life he wanted for himself. The simple, domestic yet somehow impassionate one. It didn’t feel authentic, and he had never known why.

 

            “Hey babe, so, I know you’ve been stressed out, and I heard that Adam is in town and he’s throwing another party tonight, actually. Behati told me on the phone today, would you like to stop by? I know you have shows tomorrow but I don’t think it’d be a terrible idea.” Sarah managed to snap Brendon out of his melancholy trance.

 

            “Sure, if that’s what you want to do. Tonight’s about _you_ , in case you forgot.”

 

            “Thanks, Bren! I’ve really been wanting to catch up with our LA friends, New York’s been kind of lonely.” Brendon felt for her, he really did, which is why he agreed.

 

            He wasn’t dense, though. He knew what this meant, he’d learned his lesson that Halloween.

 

            Somehow, Brendon and Ryan still have enough mutual friends that (at huge celebrity “bashes” at least) they still see each other. They were separate now; two instead of one, but their worlds still intertwined at certain times. Apparently, tonight was one of those times.

 

Ryan had been in the forefront of Brendon’s mind more frequently in the past week than he had been in the previous five years. He had always been there, affecting every part of Brendon’s life. Ryan had a residual impact on him. Causing continuous collateral damage on the rest of his being.

This was most likely because Brendon was a perfectionist and tended to focus on the past. His past shaped, well, everything. He had this tendency to let the biggest factor in his past continue to contour his present actuality. His relationship with his family, his father specifically, had always been just that. It affected his band, his music, his relationships, and how he felt about himself as a human being. Unbeknownst to Brendon, the biggest piece of his history had shifted from his parents to Ryan a long time ago.

 

Soon enough, dinner was over and paid for and the couple was heading to the party in SoHo.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

“I gotta go find Behati, B, call me if you need me!” Sarah said while holding her phone up and kissing him quickly on the cheek. _So much for a couple’s night_ , Brendon thought.

 

Brendon gazed around the foyer of Adam’s bachelor pad here in New York. Clearly, the same interior designer who had decorated his mansion in LA had decorated this space. It was nice, but Brendon had remained more personal than that.

 

The lights were red, which, in Brendon’s opinion was a strange color choice. But, to each their own.

 

He saw Sarah and Behati, along with some other girls he recognized but didn’t know, talking in the corner. His eyes trailed over the rest of the crowd, looking for a pair of brown ones.

 

Sarah had led him right back to Ryan. The irony was not lost on him. Then again, Brendon loved Sarah now, not Ryan, but it _was_ satirical nonetheless.

 

Soon enough, Brendon found Ryan in the crowd, standing next to Adam’s drummer, who he could not remember the name of.

 

Brendon’s breath hitched, still as affected by the boy as he was when he saw him in the theatre. Brendon felt like a fool. Why the hell was he at this party when he knew damn well his ex-lover was going to be there? The one he was still furious with? It made no sense to him, but he was there then.

 

When Ryan looked up from his beer, he saw Brendon. Standing there, looking at him in the eyes, rigid yet less angry than he had seen him last. The all black semi-formal attire fit him more than a suit ever would.

 

Ryan wasn’t sure what to do, he had moved (temporarily) to New York partly to see Brendon again, so obviously, he didn’t want to lose him (or whatever he had of him, which was practically nothing) again.

 

Ryan lifted his beer slightly, acknowledging Brendon.

 

Brendon didn’t lift his scotch back.

 

Instead, he walked over.

 

“Ross.” He said once he reached the older man. His face was stoic, but Ryan _thought_ he could see a spark of curiosity.

 

“Urie.” Ryan took a swing of his beer to hide the small smile on his face. He felt comfortable with Brendon, despite everything. Brendon had hurt Ryan, and Ryan had hurt Brendon. Oh _god_ , he had hurt Brendon and it pained him to think about it. So he didn’t.

 

He had taken up a habit of hard drugs to mask the feelings he didn’t want to show. Which was practically all of them.

 

Brendon was slightly buzzed off of the drink Sarah had handed him when they first walked through the door.

 

“Do you want to step outside for a minute?” Brendon asked, before he even knew what he was doing or saying. Surprisingly, Ryan nodded and they headed towards the glass door behind them.

 

“Uh, how long are you here for?” Brendon’s short-lived confidence had faded. Instead of looking at Ryan, he gazed out over the glistening New York skyline.

 

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Ryan shrug, which meant that he was here to stay indefinitely.

 

“I don’t… I don’t want to be _mad_ anymore, Ryan…” he avoided the bullshit, weather talk and his voice was almost pleading, which was plain disconcerting. He mustered up the courage to face Ryan. He had become hard to read, so Brendon waited.

 

“I don’t either.” His voice was just as waving as Brendon’s.

 

“Look, we have the same friends and we’re living in the same half of the city. If we’re going to keep…” he gestured up and down with his hands, not knowing what exactly to say, “Running into each other, we might as well _try_ to be friends, too… right?” Brendon was dazed but a tad hopeful.

 

Ryan didn’t hide the small, pained smile that was on his face for a brief two seconds. _This was progress_.

 

“Right.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 100% dedicated to the lovely people who commented on the last chapter (and have been since the beginning)! Y'all are amazing, so thank you -- you should know who you are. 
> 
> I'm so sorry that I didn't get in a midweek update like I promised -- the amount of schoolwork I have this summer is ridiculous. Thanks a lot APs. Definitely doesn't help that I thought I had three more weeks but actually have two.
> 
> Anyway! I'm only promising Monday updates from now on, but I'm not saying that there won't be some mid-week surprises here and there. ;-)

**Chapter Five**

 

 

Brendon had stayed out on the balcony long after his short conversation with Ryan, not being in the most social mood. He and Sarah had left around midnight. Kinky Boots had been cancelled for the past two nights due to the storm, but he was performing the next night, and he didn’t want to be _too_ hung over and tired. His work mattered, more than anything.

 

Sarah’s alarm went off at six-thirty for her work. She was head of social media something blah blah (Brendon hadn’t been able to remember specifically) for Glossier, an emerging makeup and skincare company based in New York City. Moving, temporarily, to New York was good for not only Brendon’s career but Sarah’s too. Since moving from LA, she had been promoted. The girl had one hell of a work ethic and genuinely cared about the field she was working in. In that way, Brendon and Sarah were similar.

 

Sarah shuffled around the apartment; she was always able to look flawless despite only taking fifteen minutes to get ready.

 

“Bren, I’m heading out, love. I’ll see you when you get home tonight.” She kissed him hurriedly on her way out. The move was beneficial for both their careers, yes, but it increasingly seemed as if they were merely pit stops in each other’s lives. Sarah left for work at seven in the morning and didn’t get home until five pm. Brendon left for work around four thirty (today, since it was Wednesday, he had to leave at noon for the matinee) and didn’t get back until eleven to midnight. The most interaction they had was from six thirty to seven. Ships passing in the early morning.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

The next few days passed routinely.

 

Brendon somehow managed to extend his time on Broadway by two more months. Ending in October, instead of in a couple of weeks.

 

The two of them went through their routines. Back in Los Angeles, it was if they were a unit, one person instead of two. It was possible they had drifted back apart, just a tad.

Although they were less close than they used to be, Brendon still had a powerful bond with Sarah. Her friendship and love had moved him from one place to another, which was one of the most powerful things human companionship could do. He did love her and always will. It was a warm, comfortable love. A love that sheltered him and protected him. It _wasn’t_ a chest-splitting, world shifting love. A love that challenged him and made him feel the most alive he ever had been.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

It was eleven clock in the morning that next Saturday, Brendon had a little over five hours before he had to get to work and _god_ he was bored.

 

His human interaction in the past week had been limited to brief passings with Sarah, beers with Zack, screams from fans and hanging out with his cast mates. He was especially close with Taylor, his love interest in the show, even though she always called him Brandon.

 

He couldn’t talk to Spencer, who was at work, or Patrick, who didn’t have a phone. Pete was spending the week with Meagan and Saint. He didn’t know many other people in New York besides Ryan.

 

It seemed like a stupid idea, the stupidest idea. Before they were _involved,_ Brendon and Ryan were best friends. It made sense, in Brendon’s biased mind, that they could be friends again. He was willing to give it a shot at least.

 

_hey pete, could you forward me ryan’s number?_

 

One small text that could rework everything.

 

Brendon knew it would be too pitiful to sit there and wait for his response, so he got up and made himself an espresso.

 

By the time he sat back down on the couch he had the number he was looking for.

 

Before he could change his mind, he sent a message to Ryan, asking him if he wanted to meet him at “The Spotted Pig”, a tavern-ish restaurant in the Village, for lunch.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

Thirty minutes later, he was seated in a both waiting for Ryan. _What am I doing_ was the only thought running through Brendon’s mind. Unsurprisingly, it was also the only thought running through Ryan’s as he walked through the door of the red brick building.

 

He found Brendon sitting in a booth near the door and slid in quietly. This was more awkward than it had been in any rendition of their first (real) meeting he played in his head.

 

“Hey.” Brendon huffed quietly. Ryan hadn’t known what to expect, so he simply started laughing, which, in turn, made Brendon laugh as well. It was a glorious sight.

 

This was uncomfortable, but it was good nonetheless. The boys had both matured and moved forward, in different ways, and were able to be around each other. Definitely a step in the right direction.

 

“Hey.” Ryan returned. Some of the tension in the booth had diffused; Brendon had a gentle smile on his face as he looked at Ryan.

 

“Uh, Pete gave me your number… I was, uh, really, really bored waiting for the show and all my friends are out or away so…” Brendon was trying to explain himself to Ryan when he couldn’t even explain himself to _himself_ yet.

 

Ryan nodded, taking in Brendon’s words and their current situation. “Well, if I remember correctly, back at Adam’s you called us friends.” He responded half teasingly and half serious.

 

“Yeah. Guess I did.” Brendon’s smile doubled without intent.

 

The waiter had come and taken their order. An hour later, Brendon and Ryan hadn’t finished their meals. Once they somewhat broke through the strain of their predicament, it was _almost_ as if they had been friends all along.

 

“So, dude, what do you do now?” Brendon asked nonchalantly, which probably had something to do with the two beers he had.

 

“Uh, well I’ve been doing some producing. A little more writing. I don’t sing anymore, the whole band thing didn’t really work too well, clearly. I like what I do just fine though. It’s okay.” Ryan nodded, like he was satisfied with his answer. Brendon didn’t see how Ryan could be happy with someone else still singing his words, that was one of the downfalls of the band. He kept his mouth shut though.

 

Brendon studied Ryan carefully as he talked about a project he had worked on with Ronnie Winter, the lead singer of _The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus_ , a few years back.

 

He was definitely older, more tired. But still familiar. Everything had been changing for Brendon, so he tried to cling to the things most known to him, which was another reason it made sense for him to reconnect with Ryan, Pete and Patrick. He had to ground himself in someway, and maybe he could do that through his oldest friends.

 

The conversation was easy. It had shifted from Ronnie to Fall Out Boy’s newest album. Brendon could get used to this.

 

Another hour later, they had been done with their food for a while and it was now nearing two o’clock. The waiter came with the check, and they made their way to the exit.

 

“Ice cream?” Brendon asked, smirking externally but internally just wanting to be able to spend more time with Ryan. The other man looked back with a look Brendon had forgotten how to read.

 

“Italian ice.” Ryan answered, walking ahead. Brendon laughed. Ryan was one of those strange people who liked Italian ice over ice cream. Gross, in his opinion.

 

He jogged to catch up to Ryan.

 

It was mid to late summer in New York City, only a few people in the streets among them. The weather made for a perfect day.

 

“Weathers nice, huh?” Brendon asked cheekily, now in stride with Ryan. Ryan scoffed. “Fuck off, man.”

 

“Just making conversation, Ross.” The conversation was blunt and strange yet the men were at ease, for the time being, and that was calming. Brendon listened to the sound of the wind in the trees, the sound of the cabs, the birds and the sound of Ryan’s breathing next to him.

 

“So where are we going, Brendon?”

 

“The Big Gay Ice Cream Shop.” Brendon responded, maintaining a straight face yet turning to look at Ryan.

 

“You’ve got to be shitting me! No way is that a thing man. Bullshit.” Ryan’s mouth was hanging open slightly, eyes meeting Brendon’s.

 

“No, Ryan, I swear. 61 Grove Street. Its like .2 miles away.” Ryan smiled gently. He was the most aware he had been in the past few years, walking alongside Brendon in the brisk August air. Being in Brendon’s vicinity, even as a distant friend, made Ryan’s life more clear.

 

“You called me Ryan.”

 

“What’re you talking about, Ross?”

 

\---------------------------------------

 

“See, I told you. Big Gay Ice Cream Shop.”

 

Ryan nodded, disbelievingly, and the men walked into the store.

 

“What flavor you getting?” Brendon asked.

 

“Uh. The only Italian ice flavor. Mango.” Ryan fake-glared at the taller of the two. “You?”

 

“Double cherry chocolate chip, definitely.”

 

Ryan snorted. “You’re such a child.” Brendon _may_ have winked, but Ryan wouldn’t have bet on it.

 

They payed for their desserts and walked to the chairs in front of the store.

 

“This should be awkward. It should be really, really awkward, Ryan. It should be uncomfortable as fuck. I should still hate you.” Brendon’s walls of charisma and nonchalant wit had fallen. Vulnerability was not his strong suit.

 

“Well, do you?” Ryan asked, lowering his ice.

 

“No, I don’t think I do. And honestly, I wish I did.” Brendon responded, almost in a whisper. Ryan looked at him and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

 

“Brendon, have we ever been conventional?” Ryan questioned.

 

“No… I guess we haven’t.” It was easy again, and they both hoped it would stay that way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is two days late, and I'm so sorry -- it definitely won't be happening again. I didn't plan very well. I drove down to North Carolina (14 hours) to see the eclipse on Monday and just now got home to my laptop! Side note: I got stranded in the middle of Virginia with flat tires with five other people and a puppy in the middle of the night. Luckily, we got a hotel room for the night and everything ended up okay. Needless to say, I'm just glad to be home.
> 
> I'm sorry for the lack of Ryan in this chapter, but I'm really looking forward to the next one. ;)
> 
> Thank you all again for the kudos and bookmarks, and especially all the lovely comments. They mean everything and inspire me to keep writing. You are all so kind! :)

The rest of Brendon’s Saturday had gone by in a blur, but a happy blur. Not a monotonous, bored blur like he had become accustomed to.

 

Sarah had weird work hours, which included her working yesterday, but she always made sure that she had Sunday’s off. This Sunday, Brendon had off too.

 

Brunch was Sarah’s favorite “invention”; second only to the Dirt Teeth Cleaning whatever thing, which she claims to make her teeth incredibly white.

 

On that thought, Sarah called Brendon from the kitchen.

 

As Brendon sat down at the small, round table for two, he was greeted by grapefruit juice, fresh squeezed, banana oat pancakes (Brendon definitely preferred the original buttermilk, but this was Sarah’s thing, and he didn’t have a huge say) and bacon.

 

“Thank you for this Sar, looks amazing,” Brendon reached across the tiny table and kissed his girlfriend.

 

“Anything, Brendon.” She smiled gently, with love in her eyes, and Brendon felt like, in that moment, she meant it. Anything. Such a huge word, with such heavy meaning.

 

Another thing Sarah was was a fabulous cook. She had told him a story about how her grandmother had taught her to cook when she was nine, but, as usual, he couldn’t remember the details.

 

“B, I know you’re super busy with the show and everything, and you know I get that, but I miss you. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Sarah was supportive and kind, everything Brendon needed. Or, that was what he tried to convince himself.

 

“I miss you too, babe.” Was the same response he had been giving her for the past few weeks. _“I love you, Brendon.” “You too.” “I miss you, Brendon.” “You too.”_

 

This time, Brendon pushed their pancakes aside and kissed Sarah with an unusual fervor. He had been a shit boyfriend recently, and he had to show her that he loved her. Maybe, he had to show, or tell, himself, too.

 

Her lips were soft and small against his slightly rougher ones. Sarah let out a surprise gasp as she kissed Brendon back with the gentleness with which she approached everything, not matching Brendon.

 

Moaning, Brendon stood up and moved them up against the bar in their small kitchen. Sarah’s hands were under his shirt, on his stomach. He didn’t find it sexy though, her hands were actually quite cold. Brendon deepened the kiss and could soon feel his hard on against Sarah’s leg.

 

“Bedroom?” Sarah asked, slightly out of breath, bringing Brendon back to reality.

 

“Uh, I think I have that interview for ‘Time’ in like thirty minutes, actually. Tonight.” Brendon answered, kissing Sarah once more. He left her in the kitchen, a tiny bit shell shocked and flustered.

 

“Fuck,” Brendon mumbled to himself as he climbed the stairs and shut the door to their bathroom. Unzipping his jeans, he found that his hand was doing a better job at turning him on than Sarah had been doing. His mind was cloudy, but he was just stressed about the upcoming interview that he had forgotten about.

 

He seemed like a very spontaneous man, and he was, but not when it came to his career. He needed to know in his mind exactly what his next move was. What kind of album he was making, etc. Brendon was stuck, creatively. Very stuck. That being said, an interview at the moment, let alone for _Time_ , was incredibly intimidating.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

Fifteen minutes later, Brendon was rushing out of the apartment to Zack loudly honking his horn.

 

“Would ya fuck off already, man, we have time!” He groaned, climbing into the car. Brendon didn’t like being driven by a professional, he would choose driving himself or with Zack every time.

 

Zack laughed like the annoying fucktard he was most of the time. “Nice to see you, too, Brendon.”

 

“No, I’m serious, fuck _off_.” He snapped, resting his head on the back of his seat.

 

“You okay?” Zack asked, turning off the radio that had given Brendon a headache within the ten seconds he had been in the car.

 

“Yeah, sorry dude, just stressed, I guess.” Zack stayed quiet, waiting for Brendon to continue. Zack was a kind hearted and wise man, despite his rough exterior. Brendon didn’t elaborate, so they drove in comfortable silence.

 

Soon enough, they were in front of the office building in Midtown Manhattan. Brendon shoved on a pair of new aviator Raybans and pulled his hood over his face. As the two men got out, Zack shielded Brendon from the minimal amount of fans outside the building. Honestly, he’s not quite sure how they even knew he had an interview today.

 

Once inside, Brendon and Zack walked into the nearest elevator. They were surrounded by hard-faced executives in crisp suits, clearly not fitting in. Brendon, however, had learned to be unfazed by this and was comfortable with himself and his career. “Fourteenth, please.” Zack asked the man nearest the buttons.

 

The door ding-ed only a few times before their floor, and they were met by a marble interior and even more executive-type people. He zoned out as he was led to the room in which his interview would take place, probably just a dressing room type thing if he had to guess.

 

Opening the door to the room they had stopped by, he was met with a Blonde lady, looking mid-forties.

 

He shook her hand firmly and flashed his most charismatic smile. “Brendon Urie.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Urie. You can call me Carlie.” He nodded and sat down on a grey, velvet couch across from her.

 

“Um, guess I’ll jump right into it, then.” Carlie fumbled awkwardly. Brendon tried his best to not roll his eyes at her amateur attitude. If he had learned one thing in the business he was in, it was that confidence was everything, and if you didn’t have it – fake it. Instead, he nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. This was a magazine article about Brendon, yet she had nothing to take notes on or with, but it wasn’t his job to critique her. It was just his job to be there.

 

“You’re most recent career move, starring in Cindy Lauper’s _Kinky Boots_ on Broadway, is definitely a step, or jump, into a whole different kind of performance. How did you handle that?” Great, he had been asked this question so many times, he felt like he could answer it in his sleep.

 

“Yeah, yeah, the show is definitely different than anything I’ve ever done, I never envisioned myself on Broadway, but I knew _Kinky Boots_ was a story I needed to be a part of. Broadway shows do require a more refined voice, and even one that is more technically accurate, but my show luckily channels some of that ‘rock-ish’ influence that I, luckily, have some experience with.” Brendon shifted, thinking for a second before deciding to get deeper than he usually does.

 

“Since the beginning of my ‘career’, I’ve always wanted to do things that broke boundaries, reflected who I am as a person and how I think. I’ve changed a lot over the past fifteen or so years I’ve been singing, and I think the show is a good reflection of where I am now. With how shitty the world is currently, everyone could use a little more love, and I’m so lucky to be in a position where I’m actually able to influence that, y’know? I stand for love; I always have. In that way, to me, the choice I made isn’t that different than what I’ve always been trying to do.”

 

Brendon smiled again when he decided his answer was satisfactory, he loved talking about his passion and was more at ease now than he had been all day.

 

The interviewer seemed a little put-off by how concise and intelligent his answer had been. No, he hadn’t graduated from high school, but he was a deep and introspective person nonetheless.

 

“That’s very admirable, Brendon. Having such a high-profile figure stand for love and equality can be so influential and important nowadays. I think having someone like you in the role of Charlie Price, showing the younger teens and generation, that acceptance can change the world can well, change the world.” Carlie flashed a timid smile of her own. “My wife and I certainly could have used an influence that mainstream growing up.”

 

Now, it was Brendon’s turn to be a bit taken back. Carlie wasn’t half bad, she may not be the best interviewer, but at least they shared at least one common belief.

 

“You don’t seem to be the type of musician who fits the mold you’re supposed to. To me, it seems as if you make your own mold, which is rare in the industry. Being as famous as you are now, it may not be a problem. Was it ever?” Carlie was inquisitive and an in-tune journalist, despite her first impression.

 

“A bit, as the original band was starting to take off, but being discovered by an already famous and edgy band, _Fall Out Boy_ , definitely helped us all find and sign to the record label we needed at the time. I’m still with them, and fortunate to still have a large amount of artistic freedom and integrity. I think we made it clear from the beginning that we aren’t making a band for fame or to simply sing. We made a band because we had something to say. As it turns out, over ten years later, I still do.” Brendon laughed easily, definitely on this planet to communicate with people through words, singing or speaking. It was all part of his element.

 

“You mentioned your original band and how you all had something to say. Are you the only one still working, do you even still talk to the boys?” She asked, not trace of tremor in her voice.

 

Carlie’s element was pulling the deepest thoughts out of those whom she interviewed. Brendon did what he did because he had something to say; Carlie did what she did because she knew that the world had things to hear.

 

“No, no; I don’t think I’m the only one still working on music, but I don’t think it’s necessarily my place to talk about their projects. And yeah, I do still talk to a few of the boys. Spencer has been my best friend since the beginning and still is; Linda, his wife, is best friends with my girlfriend too and we talk almost everyday. All around superior dude. The best.” Brendon laughed again; joking about Spencer’s significance lightened the mood some.

 

“I also recently have been in contact with one of the original guys, we haven’t hung out much, but there are definitely no hard feelings between Ryan and me.” Brendon knew that his comment about his reconnection with Ryan would send his fans into an unnecessary overdrive.

 

Even saying something probably seemed even more unnecessary, but something inside of Brendon told himself he would be staying in touch with Ryan, at least casually, this time. Like he said, no more hard feelings. Hopefully Ryan felt the same way.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

The rest of the interview went by pretty fast; it was easy conversation with Carlie. Now, he was walking to the car with Zack once again and ready to be grilled with questions and accusations about his comment about Ryan.

 

He climbed silently into the black, tinted Suburban.

 

“You hung out with him? What the hell?” Zack laughed in a misbelieving way.

 

For once, Brendon didn’t really have that much to say. He knew how insane and irrational it seemed. But, he also knew that he wanted to hang out with the man who used to be his best friend.

 

“People change, Zack. Why waste my life being angry at Ryan when we could just go back to being friends?” Brendon’s voice definitely had an edge to it, like he was frustrated at the world.

 

Zack simply scoffed and shook his head. Starting the car and driving back to Brendon’s, he said, “Whatever, dude. You’re a grown man. Just don’t fuck everything up.” At the time, he wasn’t even sure what Zack had meant.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

On Brendon’s rare days off, Sarah and Zack usually got together a group of all his friends to have a small party. Since they were so infrequent. And well, they all liked to party. It wasn’t a huge house party, just ten or so people in a bar with some good meat and some good beer.

 

“We getting’ together again, tonight?” Zack asked as they were almost back to the house.

 

Brendon checked his watch; it was about three o’clock in the afternoon (the interview had taken a lot longer than it was supposed to), which meant they should have enough to “gather” everybody.

 

“Yeah, we should be able to. It’s been a while since I’ve had a nice party, so, yeah why not.”

 

“Hasn’t it been like, a week since Adam’s party?” Zack snorted.

 

“Exactly, a week too fucking long.” Brendon was laughing, only half kidding.

 

The day kept getting better and better. Brendon had completely forgotten about the promise he made to Sarah that same morning. Brendon continued, “Sar should be home soon, so I guess we should just invite the usual people. Plus Pete and Patrick. And Ryan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check back on Monday for the next chapter, it's an exciting one.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! (It's 11:59pm, which means its still Monday :] )
> 
> I'm gonna be making a Massive effort to upload more than once a week from now on since I have 90% of this story all layed out in my head and I just want it done and out there! 
> 
> Also, I promise I'll get better at uploading on Monday mornings and not Monday midnights. 
> 
> This is a shorty but goody (I hope.)

By the time Sarah got home, Zack and Brendon had bought beer (lots of beer), restocked the liquor cabinet in his apartment, and texted their friends. Only a few people were invited (Pete, Patrick, Kenneth, Victoria, Taylor, Zack’s girlfriend who was in town for the weekend, and a few more friends of Zack’s from the show, and Ryan of course).

 

Sarah wasn’t mad at the idea of a party, work had been stressful and, to be fair, she had a party-girl streak in her, too. But she wasn’t thrilled. Honestly, all she wanted was a night in with her boyfriend.

 

“Zack, Sar, it’s almost nine so I’m gonna go change.” Brendon had taken an unusual interest in what he was wearing that night. He didn’t know all of Zack’s friends and wanted to make a good impression. Yup, that was totally it.

 

In the end, he went for a short sleeve button up black shirt and a pair of unripped, black skinny jeans. As he walked back to their not-so-small but not huge living room, he felt his hands getting sweatier. If his heart were racing a bit, he wouldn’t have admitted it.

 

He was increasingly nervous about meeting Zack’s friends for some reason. New faces didn’t usually intimidate him.

 

He sat on the couch as he heard the doorbell ring along with rowdy voices outside. Laughing, he opened it, “Hey Pat, long time no see, dude.” Right behind Patrick were the stage crew Zack invited, but, now that they were here, he didn’t really pay any mind to them.

 

Twenty or so minutes later, Pete piled in with a group of people he didn’t know and hadn’t invited, but he didn’t really care. By then, Brendon had downed a beer and a half and was _almost_ slightly buzzed.

 

Eventually, Ryan Ross walked through the door. On his arm was some blonde, almost resembling Keltie, his ex, but Brendon knew he could be making that connection up in his head. Apparently, everyone decided that it was perfectly okay to invite a plus one. To Brendon, it wasn’t. Immediately, his hands tensed around the bottle of his third beer. It was only because he wanted the party small, and not at all about who was in attendance, he told himself.

 

Everyone was laughing and seeming to be having a good time, even Sarah, who was talking to Meagan. Ryan had made himself at home, sitting comfortably with Patrick, not even sparing a glance in his direction. Brendon filled the debby downer role for the night, sitting at their high top counter, watching absentmindedly who was walking through the door.

 

Soon after, Taylor arrived. He managed to pry himself off the stool and walk over to her. “Well hi, Brandon!” She laughed, in her upbeat, happy-go-lucky attitude. Yes, her jokes were annoying, but she when it came down to it, she was a great friend and Brendon was glad to know her.

 

His weeks had become mundane; home, the show, parties. In a way, it was a vicious cycle of conformity that went against every one of Brendon’s ideas about how he would live his life. Being Taylor’s costar made it even more worth it, though. She was the kind of person to make every situation lighter and happier. In fact, she was doing that very thing right now.

 

“Hi Taylor,” he smiled. She grabbed his arm, leading him over to the collection of people sitting on the couch. She squeezed onto the end, coincidentally, sitting next to Ryan.

 

“Hi, I’m Taylor!” She practically chirped, reaching out to shake Ryan’s hand. “Ryan,” he replied, in the slightly raspy voice he got after being the slightest bit intoxicated. Taylor’s eyes fell to the table and everyone around it, but Ryan’s met Brendon’s. “Hey Brendon.” His throat closed up a tad as Ryan spoke to him. He hadn’t addressed it, or admitted it even, but he missed hanging out with Ryan. God fucking damn it, he had missed Ryan Ross. He _misses_ Ryan Ross.

 

He just nodded in response.

 

The party had been going on for about an hour, and some of the people were embarrassingly drunk.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

By eleven o’clock and, somehow, there were close to fifty people in their apartment.

 

Brendon was walking out of bathroom when he saw, right in the corner, Ryan Ross making out with some tall, blonde boy. He stared for a couple seconds, unable to help it, but it got more and more uncomfortable as time went on. Brendon was comfortable with his sexuality, but he wasn’t about to go showing it off in front of fifty of his not-so-best friends. The whole concept of it, which was apparently playing out in front of his own eyes, made something in Brendon’s stomach gurgle.

 

Coincidently, as soon as Brendon was about to turn away, Ryan made eye contact with him. His brown eyes were hazed over due to a combination of lust and liquor, and Brendon couldn’t help but find it intriguing.

 

As Sarah approached him, he was able to pull himself away.

 

Ryan had been in New York for a while; they had hung out, but to Brendon that only made him see farther away. More off limits, in a way. Of course, Brendon wouldn’t think any of this if he were sober and in his right mind.

 

He grabbed Sarah and moved them to the center of the room, where people had taken to dancing. He crashed their lips together aggressively, needing to make his emotional turmoil physical. It wasn’t at all romantic, but it was hot. His tongue glided over Sarah’s lip, slipping in easily, as he made eye contact with the boy across the room again.

 

Ryan grinded again whoever he was with, Brendon tangled his hands in Sarah’s hair, Ryan stuck his hands up the bloke’s shirt, Brendon moved a hand to Sarah’s ass. It was like a twisted game of tug of war. Involving two other teammates, who didn’t know they were playing. It seemed unfair, but neither boy seemed to be paying that fact too much thought.

 

It was tug of war, but it was also a tango. What they were doing was crass and immature, but they were moving together, back and forth yet across the room. In a fucked up way, it was sort of beautiful.

 

Another couple blocked Ryan’s view of Brendon, almost like a ref at half time. It was analogous, really. Or, sort of, at least.

 

“Excuse me, Ethan,” Ryan mumbled as he pushed the man off, leaving him disheveled. The apartment was small enough for Ryan to find the bathroom without much effort, the only thing it required was stumbling down a few hallways.

 

Once there, he splashed himself with cold water in an attempt to sober himself up a bit. It didn’t really work. He placed his hands against the cold, marble sink, breathing heavily.

 

He had come to New York to fix things, to not leave things the way they were with the man he used to call his best friend. Ryan had done a lot of soul searching over the past years and had finally, kind of figured himself out. He didn’t have many regrets, but Brendon was definitely one. He hadn’t meant to hurt him, and wanted to prove that. Ryan felt like Brendon had been ignoring him since he arrived. He had thought about leaving again, but genuinely liked the city and the job opportunities there (he refused to live off of Panic! royalties for the rest of his life).

 

A figure in the mirror interrupted his train of disillusioned, drunk train of thought. Snapping out of it and focusing on his mirror, he saw it was Brendon.

 

Ryan only held onto the sink a bit tighter, meeting Brendon’s eyes in the mirror. Not being able to handle it any longer, he spun himself around and slammed his lips into Brendon’s. He was too drunk to care or to try and kiss well. _Brendon was just a convenient body. Just a convenient body. A body_ , he told himself.

 

It was slightly hard to believe as Brendon moaned quietly, after about three seconds of Ryan’s rough kisses. Ryan felt Brendon kiss back, and suddenly, nothing could stop him. It had been too long, too long, and Ryan was starving.

 

The kissing was terrible, it was absolutely horrid; yet, it was full of unresolved feelings and remnants of a once burning passion.

 

Brendon was too out of it to really think about the situation or to even physically respond to what was happening. He gladly let Ryan take control, moaning again as his tongue swirled around his. If this was cheating, if this was a sin of any sort, it certainly didn’t feel like it. Even as violent and disorderly and desperate as it was, it set off a fuse in Brendon’s stomach that burned through his whole body.

 

Ryan’s body was pressed against his, warm and sturdy. Right here, disgustingly drunk and pressed between a man he once knew and a brick wall, was the most comfortable and happy he had been in as long as he could remember. Brendon definitely attributed that purely to the alcohol.

 

Brendon felt Ryan’s hard on jutting against his thigh, his own probably doing the same, and forced himself to pull away. Immediately, he felt cold and as vulnerable someone as drunk as he was could be. He was barely sober enough to pull himself away, but he did, stumbling out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

 

He flopped onto his bed, fully dressed, drunk and dazed, falling asleep before the party was over and he was joined by his girlfriend.

 

Brendon hadn’t intentionally ran into Ryan, he was actually attempting to find a condom to use with Sarah later, but the universe proved once again that it was out to get Brendon and had different plans. They certainly hadn’t meant to kiss, it just sort of happened. Like it did all those years ago.

 

The boys were twenty, young and immature. One thing led to another and they found themselves snogging on the floor of Ryan’s hotel room. From that night on, they shared all the hotel rooms. It was a fast moving relationship built on sex and lust, but transformed into something much, much more.

 

And now, here they are, around a decade later, still as consumed by each other as they were back then, just in different ways.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys! I forgot to mention I don't (usually) upload on holidays (aka yesterday) so here's this weeks chapter. Hopefully the length makes up for the short af chapter last time. I really hope you guys enjoy this one. Thanks again for sticking around. :)

The only thing in Ryan’s head when he woke up the next morning was pounding. He hadn’t had that much to drink in a very, _very_ long time and his memories were foggy. Yet accurate.

 

There was beer, lots of it. There was Ethan. And then, there was Brendon. _Brendon_. Ryan had to restrain himself from slamming his fist against his small hotel wall. If he had fucked everything up, again, with Brendon, well than, that would just god damn hurt.

There wasn’t anything romantic or sexual with the friendship Ryan and Brendon had formed. Ryan knew that. But that didn’t change the fact that Ryan had taken time to address and face all the mistakes he made throughout the course of their relationship. And god, he had made so many.

 

Ryan also knew that he was still in love with Brendon. Always had been, always will be. The only difference between then and now was the fact that he was ready to admit it to Brendon. If Ryan was being honest with himself, he always knew. Didn’t mean it was scary wasn’t fuck though. It was.

 

He hadn’t come to New York to chase after Brendon. He wasn’t that type of person. He had moved to New York because he needed a _change_. It just so happened that he had, say, reconnected with Brendon.

 

Everything had been normal and friendly, until Ryan fucked himself over and lost control. He hadn’t kissed Brendon in nearly ten years. How could he be expected to _not_ when Brendon was right behind him, both drunk, after their lives came colliding together again.

 

As he eventually sat up in his bed, mentally cursing himself, he was sure that the world had given him a part of his best friend again only to rip it away and mock him. Too late, Ryan. Always too late.

 

Ryan was an atheist, but he was thoughtful enough (and smart enough, he hoped) to understand that the world and those who coexisted in it were here because of Something. And whatever the fuck that Something was, was _surely_ mocking him.

 

Ryan snapped himself out of his pity party and walked, or stumbled, to the bathroom to get changed.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

A week or so had gone by. Brendon hadn’t reached out to Ryan, but with the shows and everything, that wasn’t necessarily abnormal. Ryan, however, was still mildly convinced that his slip up had fucked up whatever they had.

 

That was until, Brendon did reach out.

 

 _big gay ice cream shop 12pm_ , was all that Brendon had texted. In the past weeks the two had reconnected, their interactions had become relatively frequent but casual nonetheless, so the text itself wasn’t off-putting. It was definitely the fact that Brendon was acting normal, like Ryan hadn’t kissed him.

 

Ryan had become better at managing his anxiety in productive and healthy ways and therefore was able to shake all of it off.

 

The air had become crisp as he walked to meet Brendon, the man who had been at the forefront of his mind every second of every day since the party. Damn him. Damn a heart.

 

As he got closer to the shop that had become one of their usual “meet up” spots, he saw the large head of blackish-brown hair and immediately felt his insides ignite into a fearful excitement.

 

Ryan did love Brendon, so of course he would be lying to himself if he said that he didn’t think about the potential of _something_ while hanging out with Brendon, but ever since the party it was magnified to an all consuming level.

 

“Hey,” Ryan nervously said as he walked up to Brendon.

 

“Hey Ry.” Brendon responded cooly. Sitting down and handing Ryan an iced, black coffee. They had formed a habit of coming to the shop more to people watch and drink coffee than to eat ice cream.

 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while,” Ryan muttered quietly yet boldly and with a hint of questioning.

 

“Since the party, I guess, right?” he laughed, “man, that party was fucking wild, I don’t remember a thing, I was so damn plastered!” Brendon’s laugh and easy charisma was infectious. Ryan was a solemn and reserved soul, nevertheless Brendon brought out the best in him.

 

“Me either,” Ryan finally responded, sipping his coffee for an extended period of time. There was something in Brendon’s eyes that Ryan couldn’t decipher.

 

“Hey Ry, do you wanna hang out today? For like, the whole day?” Brendon asked. Ryan finished his coffee and nodded. They had hung out a lot, but with other friends for the most part.

 

“What do you have in mind? Cause if it’s something tedious, well, I may have to change my mind.” Ryan maintained a straight face but smiled at Brendon’s slightly surprised and hurt reaction, not quite used to Ryan’s sarcasm again.

 

“I don’t know, man, its not a fucking date, we’re just hanging out.” The insinuation took a moment to register with Brendon. Once it did, his cheeks became bright red. Coughing some, he restated, “I don’t have anything planned, but I only have an evening show tonight and thought we could do something. If you want, that is,” Brendon wasn’t usually so awkward and unconfident, but the situation was a bit… different and the atmosphere always had an underlying tension.

 

His relationship and newly found friendship with Ryan was something Brendon could not explain. It was also something Brendon did not want to lose again.

 

“If I agree to hang out with you, will you take me to Coney Island?” Ryan asked. Brendon stared back at him.

 

“You’ve never been to Coney Island?” Ryan shook his head. Brendon finished his own coffee and stood up.

 

“Where are you going, you prick?” Ry couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“Coney Island… you whiny bitch.” Brendon shot back jokingly. Rolling his eyes, Ryan followed.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

It took a while to get to Coney Island, public transportation and all, but Brendon had successfully dragged Ryan to the boardwalk.

 

            “This place isn’t as… sketchy as I had imagined.” Ryan commented, taking in the scenery. Looking to his right, Brendon stood next to Ryan with that same undecipherable look in his eyes, smiling widely.

 

            “Is that bad?” Ryan thought about it and shrugged.

 

            “Honestly, yeah, it’s a little disappointing.” The two men fell into an easy silence as they walked along.

 

            If you asked anyone else about the current situation with Ryan and Brendon, they would most likely mention how fucking _weird_ it was that two exes could not only become friends but fall into such an easy routine. It wasn’t like that though. Ryan had always been a part of Brendon’s life, and vice versa. As a friend, as a lover, as a friend again. It was only natural that they would _eventually_ see each other again.

 

            “Bren, what’s even on this board walk?” Ryan interrupted the pleasant silence and was slightly embarrassed about the seemingly stupid question. Brendon was such a kind-hearted person that he smiled and responded, knowing that Ryan hadn’t had the opportunities most children did. Like going to a beach or boardwalk for example. Honestly, Brendon felt mildly grateful that he was able to provide Ryan with such.

 

            “Just vendors. Food. Trinkets. Stupid stuff. There’re amusement parks and things like that, too. Coney Island is just full off… stuff.” Brendon gestured around them stupidly.

 

            On the outside, nothing had changed between the two. Ryan remembered the kiss, though, so in that way, many things had changed. He was certainly less able to deny and/or resist the fact that, yes, he had feelings for Brendon. It panicked him, but he felt serenely calm walking along Brendon on the boardwalk, casually bumping arms and inhaling the salted air.

 

            “Do you wanna stop here?” Ryan asked, pointed to a cheesy gift shop called the “Lola Star Souvenir Boutique”. Brendon didn’t have to answer; he just lightly grabbed Ryan’s hand and pulled him to the store. Ryan’s heart didn’t miss a beat. It didn’t.

 

            Ironically, everything with Brendon and Ryan seemed to be more relaxed and low-key after the party. Just _easier_ in general. Brendon’s charisma and light heartedness brought out the happiest and best Ryan, likewise, Ryan’s introspectiveness forced Brendon to become softer. It wasn’t an opposites attract sort of thing, it was more of a _this person completes me_ kind of thing.

 

            Ryan pulled Brendon nonchalantly through rows of hideous t-shirts until he stooped at a grey one with a white clown-ish face in the middle, encircled by red letters in a circus type font spelling out CONEY ISLAND.

 

            Brendon stared at him, “What the hell do you like about that Ryan? As a friend, I feel a duty to tell you that that shirt is creepy as shit. Like genuinely, that shirt is disturbing.” Brendon faked a shutter, making Ryan laugh.

 

            “This embodies the Coney Island I pictured. I think that’s cool. I like it.” Ryan grabbed it off the rack, letting go of Brendon and instantly exhaling, he then continued to follow Brendon around as he picked out his own shirt. A few minutes later, Brendon settled on a red striped shirt with a red collar and a blue Coney Island anchor on it.

 

Ryan looked between their two shirts as they were checking out. “So. You criticized my clown, but at least I won’t look like fucking Waldo.” He mentioned with the straightest face he could maintain.

 

Brendon’s bark of laughter earned a glare from the old lady at the register. “Fuck off, Ross.”

 

They continued along the boardwalk, bags bumping as their arms swung. Ryan was surprised they hadn’t been stopped, despite it being relatively desolate and the fact that Brendon’s attire included huge aviators and a snap back. He wasn’t complaining. He was a private person and liked living in his own world.

 

An hour or so passed before Brendon realized it was around four thirty and he had to start heading back to the Al Hirschfeld. “Hey Ross, I have to get to work, but you can tag along if you want.”

 

Ryan thought about it, albeit briefly, before replying. “Okay.”

 

They took the subway back into Manhattan, making their way to the theatre. Ryan would be lying if he said he wasn’t at all nervous about seeing people from his past that still worked for Brendon. His fear subsided by looking at his younger friend.

 

Walking up to the back entrance of the building, they stepped inside out of the colder-than-it-should-be air.

 

“Well, this is it.” Brendon said proudly. The theatre was old and mostly hard wood, it was nice though.

 

“This is really cool, Urie.” Ryan said, looking around at the crew photos.

The two walked further down the small hallway before being met by someone else. Luckily, it was the blonde who Ryan was pretty sure he had already met. “Hey Taylor! You remember Ryan.” Ryan waved awkwardly, feeling incredibly foreign in Brendon’s place of expertise.

 

There were a few more awkward introductions on the way to his dressing room before they ran into Zack.

“Hey Zack.” Brendon probed, calmly yet with, what Ryan supposed was, a hint of defensiveness. Zack gaped at Ryan for a split moment, obviously surprised by his presence and assumingly unaware of how friendly the two guys had become.

 

“Ryan, good to see you again. Bren, I’ll see you before the show.” He smiled timidly, like he knew something, and walked away slowly.

 

Brendon coughed, breaking the awkward silence. “Dressing rooms this way.” He pointed down the hall to the left.

 

The room was small, with a mirror, a counter and a black couch, but it was really nice. Brendon shifted around, getting ready he figured, while Ryan sat on the couch. “Hey Brendon, this is really cool. I’m proud of you, I guess.” He muttered self-consciously.

 

Brendon smiled at him without the fake charm or wit, but with appreciation and kindness. “Thanks,” he replied simply, ducking his head. He may have been blushing some, too.

 

Ryan stood up to look at the picture frames along his wall. There were a lot with Zack, some with Dallon and other touring members, one with Sarah and his parents, a number with the “Kinky Boots” cast.

The one that caught Ryan off guard was the one second from the bottom on the left. It was a picture of Brendon with Ryan, circa 2006. They were slow dancing, jokingly, to the song “All These Things That I’ve Done” by The Killers across their shared dressing room. Ryan’s head had fallen against Brendon's, the two of them practically collapsing against each other in fits of laughter, in a bubble all by themselves.

 

Ryan had no idea how the hell he had a picture of that day, or why it was hanging on his wall. He couldn’t help but bring his hand up to it and touch it, as if he was checking to see if it was real. It was. Oh, how the times had changed.

 

He was aware of Brendon’s body about an inch away, standing next to him, but his eyes were on the picture and his breath was stuck in his throat, heart beating fast.

 

He turned to Brendon quizzically. He had so many questions, yet didn’t know how to ask any of them. Instead, Brendon asked one.

 

“Why’d you come, Ryan?” Immediately, Ryan knew what he really meant was, _Why did you come to “Kinky Boots”._ Ryan looked at Brendon, trying to read him to the best of his abilities. The room was full of the suspenseful tension they had failed to address in the past month and a half of getting to know each other again.

 

“I missed you.” Ryan answered, having decided that that was the simplest answer he could currently give without overstepping any boundaries.

 

As Brendon failed to respond, the air in the room became simultaneously thicker and lighter, sucking the oxygen out of them both with each fleeting second. By now, he was facing Ryan directly and had shifted forward a bit, their faces mere centimeters from each other. If they had been able to exhale, Brendon would have felt Ryan’s breath on his neck.

 

“If I kiss you now, are you going to pretend that you don’t remember again?” Brendon breathed, not one hundred percent sure Ryan heard him.

 

“No.” Ryan mimed, not even making a sound.

 

Brendon moved his mouth forward, hesitating only for a second, dark eyes locking with Ryan’s melted-milk-chocolate brown ones.

 

When his lips met Ryan’s, it was nothing like last time. Ryan’s lips were soft against his own, gentle and hesitant, nothing like the aggression that possessed them before. But they ignited the same fire inside him. 

 

Brendon moved his hand around Ryan’s neck, pulling the boy as close to him as possible. _Closer_. _Closer_. As close as possible. The kiss was mild, yet full of _something_. There was no tongue and the kiss wasn’t traced with sex or lust. It was just Ryan on Brendon, Brendon on Ryan, Ryan and Brendon melding together into one. Their mouths danced together but stayed closed.

 

It was only a second or two before Brendon pulled away gently and with hesitation. He left his hand around Ryan’s neck and their foreheads resting together. Brendon smiled softly at Ryan, taking in his eyes, wanting to stay in the bubble they had a habit of making for themselves forever. No show, no _Sarah_ , just Ryan. It always came back to Ryan. He was a fool for thinking otherwise. Damn a heart.

 

Times had definitely changed, Ryan was right.


	9. Chapter Nine - PART ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I want to start by saying this is ONLY PART ONE (1/3rd the chapter) of this chapter (I know you guys deserved something, and a reminder I wasn't dead, but the whole chapter wasn't ready). Part two (the rest) will be posted tomorrow or Wednesday (so keep checking back) with my normal chapter updates resuming on Mondays, effective immediately.**
> 
> Oh my god. I'm sorry. How is it even possible that I've missed the last two updates?! I've missed this story.
> 
> Y'all wouldn't believe the utter shit show that the past 2/3 weeks has become. I've been very sick (mentally) and seeking help. I basically had a complicated, gritty friend-breakup with my best friend, who was emotionally/mentally abusive on many levels. And junior year is kicking my ass. Fantastic combo. No excuses, just wanted to explain that I haven't been purposefully neglecting this story.
> 
> I can't promise that I will never have to miss an update again but I can 100% promise that I will Never be giving up on this. You guys! I literally have the last chapters written I'm just working on the in between. I'm not going anywhere, guaranteed. 
> 
> Also, thank you for 500 reads. Whether 500 people clicked on my story, decided it sucked and never came back, or 5 people clicked on it 100 times -- thank you. :)
> 
> Last but certainly not least, a super mega thank you to those of you who continued to comment during my brief, unexpected hiatus. It means a lot more than you think it would.

Brendon danced across the stage, seemingly as “in it” as ever. Ryan, however, could tell that Brendon was stuck in his head. Ryan had been watching the show from the left wing, leaning against the brick wall, small enough to be able to stay out of the way.

He was confused. Not once since he had been back and, more relevantly, in touch with Brendon had he seen any sign of Brendon being interested in him again. That wasn’t a surprise; Ryan didn’t feel worthy of Brendon’s feelings, which was part of the problem in the first place.

 

Brendon’s eyes had met Ryan’s for the first time during “Charlie’s Soliloquy”, just like they had however many weeks ago. A lot had happened in that time, but Brendon’s eyes were still full of pain and confusion, mirroring Ryan’s.

 

During the song, which was the only extended time Brendon could see the wings, Brendon kept glancing at Ryan, albeit discreetly.  

 

Brendon went through the rest of the night without looking at Ryan once and executed his notes with a mastery that Ryan was sure only Brendon Urie could reach.

 

It had been awkward after their kiss; Brendon exited quickly, stammering about having to go on stage, and Ryan was left to meander around.

 

Neither boy was quite sure where they stood. Nothing was easy with the two, everything was always very complicated. Complex people, complicated feelings, confusing situations. Almost everything seemed pinned against them. _‘It went down in flames last time, what’s stopping that from happening again… is there even an again’?_   Ryan thought.

 

The curtain call went seamlessly. Ryan was still in awe of the talent throughout the whole cast.

 

His heart picked up as Brendon approached him. He wasn’t anxious or anything, Brendon had a way of calming that in him, he just felt somewhat on edge.

 

Ryan made his way back to Brendon’s dressing room, wanting to stay out of the way to the best of his abilities. He sat awkwardly on the long, black leather couch, his knee shaking subconsciously and hands fumbling clumsily. His eyes couldn’t help but travel to the picture in question.

 

Brendon interrupted his train of thought when he came through the door a few minutes later.

 

“Hey.” Brendon probed gently. Ryan nodded in response.

 

Brendon stayed where he was, but locked the door.

 

“We need to talk. I... I don’t know what to say, but I, I can’t do this – again.” Ryan stood up to face Brendon, but stayed quiet.

“I love Sarah. I do. I’m in love with Sarah, Ryan. I’m _sorry_ about before the show, I wasn’t thinking and I-I'm... _sorry_ for projecting that on you. I was confused, fuck, Ryan, I still am confused. I'm just so fucking confused, Ry. But I can’t--” Brendon was stammering, “I don’t want to lose you again, _as a friend_ , but I can’t.” Ryan had never seen him as raw as he was, and without his usual walls of wit.

 

He waited a while, thrown off by how suddenly he found himself in this situation. “What the fuck?” He laughed, not because the situation was funny or at all amusing, but because this was so fucking weird. Ryan didn’t know what to say, he didn’t even know how he felt. All he knew was that there he was, in New York City, in front of Brendon, finally ready to try again, whatever that meant.

 

Brendon was running his hands through his hair, clearly distressed. He scoffed.

 

“You know, Ryan, I was so ready for this. I was ready for _you_ , all of you, back then. And now you’re here, fucking me up inside and out again and I’m not there anymore, a-and I don’t know if I’ll ever be. I’ve moved on, I’m in love with Sarah and I can’t _do_ this, again.”

 

Brendon didn’t sound angry, because he wasn’t. He sounded weak, frail, confused and hurt; he was.

 

Ryan had showed up and turned everything upside down. Being friends with Ryan made Brendon’s life easier, when it should have been the opposite. Instead of being (completely) filled with anger towards Ryan, Brendon was also filled with awe and respect at the character he had become and gratitude for Ryan’s newfound presence in his life. Brendon had been lost, and suddenly he felt found. Still. Secure.

 

Right then, forced to face all of that, Brendon felt his brain, heart and morals were weak: why had he let someone who broke him down begin to build him up again? He felt fragile: what would this mean going forward? He felt confused: why in fuck’s sake had Ryan Ross, who is a storm of angst and misunderstanding, caused Brendon to feel assured and safe in the life he was living?

 

Most of all, he was hurt. To the core. Ryan’s need to keep everything quiet and under wraps when Brendon was willing (eager even) to come out had strained Brendon very thin, but he kept everything inside, which was a bad habit of Ryan’s as well, because he was in love with him.

 

The pain Ryan had caused Brendon had been life changing. He will be forever changed by Ryan, in both good and bad ways.

 

Brendon wasn’t naïve; he knew Ryan had his own demons he was fighting at the time and that Ryan had scars from before and during their world wind relationship.

 

He was snapped out of his introspective daze, something he had been finding himself in quite often, when Zack called through the door, " _Brendon, are you heading out soon?"_

 

Knowing Zack, he didn’t actually give a shit about whether or not he was leaving soon, he most likely wanted to make sure what happened in the dressing room stayed PG. Zack was one of Brendon’s closest confidants, yet clearly, had little faith in him. That or was protective over Brendon and his family. The ladder was more conceivable.

 

“Yeah, Zack, just packing up.” Brendon responded, no waiver or insecurity in his voice. Brendon didn’t move, neither did Ryan.

 

If they had attempted to have this conversation anywhere from 2005-2009, they would have been busy shouting things they didn’t mean at each other and keeping in everything they actually meant to say.

 

Now, they had grown up. They had matured. They had been broken and taped together again. But they were still holding everything in (like a damn holding back a flood), perhaps because they didn’t know how or where to even begin.

 

At least there was no yelling, Brendon thought. And at least Ryan was his friend, albeit a very complicated friend.

 

“I’ll see you around, Ryan.” It came out more of a question, a demand for reassurance, than a statement. Brendon didn’t want a romantic relationship, but the one thing he was sure as hell of is that he didn’t want to lose Ryan again.

 

Ryan nodded. “Yeah, I’ll call you.”

 

Brendon hoped Ryan would and that he hadn’t screwed up.

 

Ryan hoped Brendon would answer his call and that he hadn’t screwed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are an easy way to make my day ;)
> 
> Remember to check tomorrow or wednesday for the rest of the chapter! And mondays for every following chapter.


	10. Chapter 9 - PART TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm sorry for posting the second half of chapter nine as Monday's update but honestly, theres only so much I can do. At least its slightly longer than part one. I'm definitely feeling better about being able to manage our weekly Monday updates; I'll keep working on the in-between.
> 
> Also, the reason I upload late on Monday night is because I don't get home until late, not because I forget or am procrastinating. :)
> 
> Additionally, I'm sending everyone around the globe positive and loving thoughts, but especially our Vegas and Nevada friends. Everyday, try your best to spread love, not hate. It's a lot easier than you probably think.

CHAPTER NINE, PART TWO

Brendon was adamant about wanting nothing changing in the friendship he had with Ryan. Obviously, he was aware of the fact that this was incredibly unrealistic, but he wanted to try nonetheless. Ryan made him better.

 

Ryan had called him two days after the “dressing-room incident”, he picked up. It was awkward at first, but things evened-out and they were on the phone for almost two hours until Sarah got home from work.

 

So, here Brendon was, standing outside a club in the village with Sarah by his side; Ryan, Pete, Patrick, and Zack were all inside already. Brendon swore he was either sleeping, at the theatre or at a club with friends (some old, some new, some both).

“Did you find it Sar?” he asked. Sarah thought she had possibly left her wallet at home.

 

“Yup,” she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. She squeezed his hand and they walked in together.

 

There were a number of people there, but it wasn’t overwhelming and grossly hot. Sarah hadn’t hung out with Ryan properly yet. The first time she met him was at the disastrous house party where he kissed Ryan. In retrospect, he wasn’t even that drunk.

 

Brendon saw his friends immediately and pulled Sarah over to join them.

 

Zack, Pete and Patrick were on one side of the booth. So naturally, Brendon found himself squeezed between Sarah and Ryan.

 

“Sarah, this is my old friend, Ryan. Ryan, my girlfriend Sarah.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Sarah, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Ryan reached across Brendon’s back to politely shake Sarah’s hand. Ryan’s long fingers skimmed Brendon’s next and sent shivers down his spine. Brendon whipped his head to Ryan, but he wasn’t looking back towards him.

 

He focused on Ryan’s facial features for a split second, or two, before immersing himself in the conversation. Really, he was only half paying attention.

 

“B, how’s the show? I’ve been meaning to come out.” Pete changed the subject away from guitars.

 

“I mean, its going amazing. I’ve made some awesome friends and, honestly, every show is a blast,” Brendon sipped slowly on the scotch that had been delivered to the table a few minutes ago, “and the message beyond it is amazing, y’know? How could I not want to be a part of something like that?” He smiled, at ease.

 

Pete nodded, and promised once again to see the show before Brendon moved on to other things.

 

“How’d you even score that gig in the first place?” Patrick piped up.

 

“Well I went to see the show and it just… captured me, I guess, in every way. It was so moving I genuinely started to cry,” Brendon laughed charismatically, even though he felt obscenely awkward talking about his personal life, despite being around his friends and family.

 

“I think, in retrospect, I related to both Charlie and Lola and felt a need to play a role in something as powerful as this show.”

 

Everyone was looking at Brendon, waiting for him to continue.

 

“As a bi man with, uh, unaccepting parents, I definitely feel for both characters and I think that using our stories with music to change others is just… beautiful.” Brendon felt even more awkward now, he hadn’t intended to give an interview-style answer.

 

It was quiet for a second until Zack raised his glass, “Well, I’ll drink to that.” Brendon smiled.

 

Brendon glanced towards Ryan, who remained quiet. He had an undecipherable look on his face.

 

“I’m proud of you guys, living the big ol’ rockstar life.” Sarah said, still smiling.

 

This time, Brendon was the one who raised his glass.

 

Conversation flew easily between the six of them, like they had all been friends for life; no breakups, no awkward encounters and definitely ex competition. To be fair, Sarah had no idea that Ryan and Brendon were involved, so there wasn’t an opportunity for her to act anyway other than lovely. Not that she ever would.

 

“Hey Babe, scoot over some,” Sarah asked, having found another friend in the bar whom she invited to sit with them; Sarah was an infectiously positive and lovely person who was, therefore, pretty ‘popular’.

 

Brendon’s focus was pulled from his wandering mind to Ryan’s body, or leg, pressed firmly against his. “Sorry,” Brendon quickly muttered for only the two of them to hear.

 

“Its okay, love,” Both Brendon and Ryan blushed as Ryan’s old nickname for B slipped through subconsciously. Friends called each other love all the time, it meant nothing more than any other nickname.

 

“Okay,” Brendon croaked.

 

It shouldn’t be a big deal at all, sitting so close to each other; but with the difficult ‘bump’ they recently hit in their friendship, it seemed incredibly personal.

 

Within a few minutes, and after the boys finished their respective drinks, the situation was more doable.

 

Brendon was staunchly aware of Ryan’s body heat against his, probably because they hadn’t been this close in years. Y’know, besides the kissing.

 

Their presence, or lack there of, in the heated conversation about the upcoming elitist parties in the city, went seemingly unnoticed. Brendon had developed a habit of getting lost in his thoughts, but, this time, he was simply paying more attention to the man next to him than anyone else. And Ryan, well, Ryan never talked.

 

Brendon could feel his heart beat pumping through his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was Ryan, the alcohol, or a combination. He could hear his breathing over the loud laughs and music. Most importantly, he could sense Ryan Ross next to him, so close to him. Fuck, he had really missed this; a lot more than he was willing to admit.

 

The thing Brendon had missed the most about Ryan was simply being close to him; not the sex, not the love, just the closeness (both physically and emotionally).

 

Without even thinking about it, Brendon reached his hand across his own leg and onto Ryan’s. For a moment, he was still. Then, Ryan’s fingers were on his. They weren’t holding hands, necessarily; they were more simply touching each other’s fingers. It wasn’t as weird as it sounded in Brendon’s head.

 

To Ryan, everything about this seemed unfair. He had come to New York because he was still in love with Brendon; it was as simple as that.

 

Brendon had kissed him and then told him it wasn’t like that anymore. Ryan could deal with that, but he couldn’t deal with Brendon’s inconsistent, mixed signals.

 

Red light, green light, red light, yellow light. Brendon was confusing the fuck out of Ryan and honestly he didn’t see a way this could end positively.

 

Unfortunately, the thing Ryan couldn’t stand even more was the thought of _not_ taking Brendon’s hand. Ryan wasn’t sure if the strength in his boldness was a good thing or if the strength to ‘say no’ would be more logical. Now, it didn’t seem to matter.

 

Brendon looked at Ryan, indiscreetly, and waited for their gazes to meet. Almost right on cue, Ryan’s dark brown eyes met his own. They were full of everything neither boy could bring themselves to say, yet.

 

            Ryan’s eyes were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, which angered Brendon almost as much as the fact that if there weren’t so many people there he may have reached over to kiss him. Again.

 

            Brendon wasn’t only sending mixed signals; he was having so many mixed emotions and ideas.

 

            Ryan’s fingers felt lanky and cold in his hand, yet seemed to fit like a puzzle piece. Brendon was incapable of feeling anything except Ryan’s body pressed so closely against his own.

 

If he was being honest with himself, which he wasn’t, this should have been a big enough clue into what he truly wanted.

 

Suddenly noticing Zack’s suspicious gaze, Brendon pulled his eyes away from Ryan. However, that didn’t mean he let go. He definitely didn’t.

 

The night of drinking and games continued as smoothly and quickly as it always did. The only thing Brendon could focus on was the person sitting next to him. And no, he didn’t mean his girlfriend.

 

Brendon, to his dismay, had to let go of Ryan a while ago to pay the food bill. He couldn’t help himself and soon enough found his forefinger drawing small, light circles on the side of Ryan’s thigh.

 

Ryan stayed relatively still the whole night; with one arm resting nonchalantly on the back of the booth and one arm subtly behind Brendon, his hand resting on the small of B’s back. Occasionally he would drum his fingers lightly, mainly because Ryan found Brendon’s subsequent goose bumps humorous.

 

 

\---------------------------------------

 

 

As Brendon walked out of the bar that night, he felt like he had done something wrong. The clicking of his, and Sarah’s, heels on the ground walking back to their apartment, the cabs in the distance and the brisk air did nothing to clear his mind, like they had that first night he ran into Ryan. Things were more complicated now, he supposed.

 

He tried to not be naïve; he knew he was leading Ryan on. But how could Brendon be sure what to tell Ryan to think when he wasn’t sure what he thought and felt himself?

 

Any way Brendon tried to slice it in his head, he knew deep down that something about his intimate exchange with Ryan in the bar was not innocent. He just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

 

Brendon tried to focus on the late summer air, his girlfriend on his arm and slowing his breathing. Anything except Ryan.

 

The only problem was that, more often than not, Brendon found himself thinking about nothing but the one and only Ryan Ross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments, people, kudos and comments. 
> 
> <3
> 
> A special thank you to those of you who check this story every day for a new update, it means a lot. 
> 
> ALSO, I don't have a beta or anything so any (constructive, please) criticism is not only welcomed but encouraged.


	11. a notice

hi lovelies,

this is probably at least somewhat expected, as my updates have been off-schedule and vaguely inconsistent. to cut to the chase, i need to take a hiatus from this story until things are easier personally and with school.

this is NOT permanent. i do not know for sure how long; or even how to ball-park it, but it is not forever, so don't worry.

i will never give this story up. i just need to be able to fully commit to it and write the best chapters possible, which i currently can't do. i hope you all understand and will eventually check back up on this story, it would be a shame if you didn't.

<3 gigi


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